A Spoonful Of Grace
by TheIronBat
Summary: This is the story of a brief meeting in the days before the Apocalypse and what happened afterwards, as told by Emma Motley and Sam Winchester. Emma Motley is a hunter that said goodbye and left the world for good, until she's pulled back topside. Sam Winchester is a hunter that saved the world once, until the next Apocalypse rolls into town. A hunter's job is never done, is it?
1. Chapter 1

**TIB: **Yes, a new story! For the readers of my Avengers story, I haven't given up on it. I am debating taking it down and starting from scratch, but the jury's still out on that one. This story is much simpler (i.e., less OCs).

This chapter covers a vague time at the tail end of Season 5. It's meant to be vague, because I'm not going to mess with anything that happened in the show. It's completely AU after Season 5 though. Not much to say at the moment, but I hope you like the story!

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**Chapter One  
Emma Motley's Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101**

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**EMMA**

"Shit, sorry!" Emma Motley tried to get her right foot back under her and started lilting farther to the side. She was prepared for the fall coming her way when a strong hand clamped down on her elbow, and wide brown eyes blinked up at her rescuer as she was set to rights.

"You okay?" The deep voice was warm and not in a hurry, like most people these days. Emma flashed her best smile and craned her head back to get a good look at the guy. The very nice-looking guy. Shaggy brown hair that looked soft to the touch, gorgeous hazel eyes, legs that went for miles and had to put him at six-five, and stacked. They don't make 'em like this every day.

"Getting' better all the time." A look of recognition dawned in his eyes at her husky tone, and she smiled again as the barest hint of a blush touched on those sculpted cheekbones. Whoa, she seriously needs to get laid if she's waxing poetic about _cheekbones_.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it, sugar. I'm the one with two left feet. Best accident I've had all week." With a quick pat just to see if his chest really was as firm as it looked, Emma sauntered off. Walked right out of the bar, walked briskly across the parking lot, and walked on into her pretty black van. Vans are big and easy to spot, not the most inconspicuous, but the big ol' thing keeps her from having to live out of motel rooms. At least this way she kinda has a home. A home on wheels, perfect for quick getaways! Well, getaways at the speed limit, because of the whole not very inconspicuous thing. Whatever, it's all hers.

With the little mattress taking up the back cushioning her ass, she reclined back against the wall of the van and took a look around at all the pretty pictures pinned up. By pretty, she means gruesome. Gruesome doesn't always mean difficult though. All in all, it's a pretty simple salt and burn. There's a pissed off spirit terrorizing the local haunted house, and Emma knows right where the angry bitch is buried. The only problem? A town festival is being held in the street right in front of the cemetery. It's about how her luck goes these days. The lovely townspeople should clear out before sunrise, but that's still not enough time to dig up a body and burn it before the townsfolk start their day. The only thing left to do is chill until the following night, which means she might actually catch a little shut-eye tonight. Or get in some recreational reading. She hasn't really had the time to read just for the hell of it lately, and time is of the essence.

**.xXx.**

"What the hell is this?!" Emma froze, mid-shovel throw, and pasted on a cheery smile as she slowly turned around. Just how the hell was she gonna bullshit her way out of this one?

"It's you!"

"Well, hey there, sugar! What brings you here at this time of night?" The tall stranger with poetic cheekbones from the bar bent down and slowly stood back up with her salt in his hand.

"Same thing as you, I guess." He had a small sheepish smile on his face that made Emma's insides quiver, and for once, in a good way. Toe curling good, even. She so needs to get laid.

"Wait, you're telling me this little girl is a hunter? And how do you know her?" Brown eyes moved from the tall one to the shorter, but no less prettier, man beside him.

"This is the girl I told you about, from the bar last night."

"The one you stepped on?"

"Yes, Dean, that one."

"And you're really a hunter?" the short one, Dean, asked.

"Nah, I got into necrophilia about two years ago. It's a serious addiction. I'd try therapy, but I don't think I could handle prison."

"She's joking, right?"

"Yes, she's joking." The taller one paused and then looked down at her as she worked on popping open the coffin. "Right?"

"You think necrophilia is funny? You guys are sick." Emma tossed the shovel out of her little hole and wiped her hands on her dirty shorts. "Toss the salt down, would ya?"

"Need any help there, Thumbelina?"

"Just tell me how hot my ass looks in the firelight, yeah?" She could hear loud laughter over the sound of burning bones, and she twisted around to pop her aching spine. She moved up onto her tiptoes to grip the edge of the hole she was in so she could crawl her ass out of the grave, and two strong hands gripped each of hers. She pretty much floated out of grave and attempted to knock off the clumps of dirt clinging to her clothes.

"What kind of hunter wears shorts and flipflops?" Dean asked. The shorts were dark blue, loose, and stopped right above a pair of bruised looking knees. Fuckin' werewolves, man. The flipflops were black and looking a little worse for wear. Probably not the best attire to wear in February, but who cares? It's unseasonably warm in the south and if she's gonna be digging up graves, she's gonna be comfy.

"One that likes being comfortable. Makes running a helluva lot easier too; I just kick 'em off and go. So, now that I've done your job for you, what are you gonna do?" she asked as she looked between the two. They really were abnormally tall; her neck was starting to get a crick in it just from having a conversation with them.

"Grab some food and head back to the motel, I guess."

"Would you like to come with us, uh…"

"Shit, I never introduced myself, huh? Emma Motley, at your service." A slim and dirt-covered hand hovered in front of the taller two as she waited. A large hand wrapped around her own and gave it a good shake.

"Sam Winchester." The dusty lightbulb in her head made a quiet _ping!_ as she looked between the two. Huh, it must be her lucky night. She burned the bones before the ghost could come after her ass, and she's meeting _legends_.

"Holy shit! The Winchesters? I was starting to think you two were a myth, but Bobby never did seem like the lying type."

"You know about us?"

"You know Bobby?" Emma slowly looked between the two and nodded her head in the affirmative.

"Yeah, Bobby's the one that eased me into the life. I still call him when I can, but I haven't seen him since I started out on my own."

"Why don't we fix this back up and talk about it later?" Sam asked and looked around. Right. Don't want anyone to walk up and ask why a grave's just been dug up.

"Sounds good to me. That cool with you, Deano?"

"Sure, Tinkerbelle."

An hour later, Emma found herself seated at a small table in a small motel room with two massively stacked hunters. Well, maybe massively stacked is pushing it a bit. Let's be completely honest though. Little Emma is only a solid five-four in her bare feet, and the short one is six-two. Yeah, the short one. Emma's got some muscle tone, buried under her placating curves, but these dudes just look strong and like they can kick some serious ass. She looks like a pot-smoking college freshman, on a good day. Or so she's been told. Speaking of the strong looking cavemen…Her bacon burger is delicious, but it's a little hard to concentrate on the greasy goodness with two dudes staring at her like she's munching on baby toes. Emma gingerly put the burger down, sucked up a big gulp of soda, and crossed her arms under her overly endowed chest.

"Alright, whattaya want to know?" The two brothers exchanged a look, and she waited to see which one would kickstart the inquisition.

"Anything that you feel comfortable telling us," Sam said with an earnest smile. Geeze, the guy is like a big puppy. And Emma really wouldn't mind giving him a tummy rub. No, wait, focus!

"Well, for starters, I ain't big into threesomes, but I've been feeling a bit more adventurous here lately." Dean barked out a laugh, a sharp sound in the small room, and then pulled himself back together.

"For real, who are you?" Dean asked. Emma flicked through all the hunters gossip and tried not to sigh. Dean was the older brother, and the one that just recently returned from Hell after making a deal to get Sam's life back. Caginess was to be expected, even more so than usual. Hunters are suspicious by nature, but Emma's always been open and honest. She dropped her arms to drum her fingers on the table and met both their eyes.

"If you wanna look me up, my whole name is Emmaline Grace Motley. I'm twenty-four years old, and I've been a hunter for the past seven years. Curious about how I got started?" It was the most common hunter meeting story. Have a shot of whiskey, slowly drink a beer, and spill your guts about why you're hunting the things that go bump in the night. Her job is so depressing.

"At seventeen?" Sam asked.

"Most hunters start out younger than that; most grow up in the business, like you two. Those that aren't born into it normally crash land into it, right? Well, I'm the second one. My mom had me when she was pretty young, dad not in the picture, and she didn't remarry again until I was fourteen. She had my little sister a year later. Two years after that, my stepdad fell down some stairs at work. They called it an accident. Turns out, it was a witch. She was going after this committee thing that my mom and stepdad were on. They helped people in the community, but they turned this woman down for whatever reason. She wound up losing her home and custody of her three kids. By the time Bobby showed up at our house, Mom was hanging from the ceiling fan in the living room."

"Your sister?" Sam's hazel eyes were just full of sympathy, but Emma couldn't read Dean. The distrust is strong in this one.

"She was two, so she doesn't remember anything. She was in her room when everything went down. Bobby came in, saw what had happened, and called the cops. I knew that something wasn't right. I mean, I watched my mom get dragged across the room and when I tried to help her, something I couldn't see threw me against the wall and held me there until she stopped breathing. I begged Bobby to take me with him. I wanted to find what killed Mom. Bobby says I had a determined look in my eye, and that's why he took me along. Said if he didn't, I probably would've gone after her alone and got myself killed. He's not wrong."

"What happened after that?" The question came from Sam, and it looked like Dean was trying to decipher the secrets of the universe.

"I stuck with Bobby for about a month and then he introduced me to a couple more hunters. Once I got the hang of things, I struck off on my own. Been that way ever since."

"What about your little sister?" Huh, maybe Dean was just trying to find all the secrets of her universe. The hard stare made her shift in her seat as she started to answer his question.

"Krissy is nine now. She got adopted almost immediately by this family out in California, the Rays. She's playing softball this year, and she made the honor roll."

"You keep track of her?" Emma tensed as she looked away from Dean's green eyes to look at Sam.

"Of course. She's my baby sister, she's all I got left in this world. I've always kept track of her."

"Does she know you?" She could feel Dean still looking at her, but she didn't look away from Sam.

"No. She was so young when everything happened, and she's better off not knowing. This way she can live a normal life." Okay, yeah, she could hear the gooey sap in her voice but it can't be helped. Krissy is the brightest part of her shit-filled world, even if the kid doesn't know her name.

"Hey! You know what we forgot? Dessert! I'll be right back." Emma blinked and Sam was gone. Huh. Apparently having such long legs really can come in handy.

"Is he okay?"

"Sam was six months old when our mom was killed by a demon and Dad started hunting. Probably wishes we had dumped him somewhere and let him be normal." Emma cut her eyes over at the elder Winchester and had to bite her tongue to keep from correcting his word usage. Krissy hadn't been dumped anywhere. She'd been given to a safe home.

"Eh, I thought it was the best thing for her. I was only seventeen and living off of anger. It's no environment to raise a kid in, as I'm sure you know."

"Yeah, yeah, now what are you hiding?"

"Hiding?" Emma asked with her most innocent smile. You know, they kinda looked like big lugs, but there was some serious brain power hiding behind those thick looking skulls.

"You're holding back on something. I can tell."

"Straight up honesty?"

"Straight up."

"Krissy got a tumor three hundred and twenty-one days ago. Cancerous, of course. The doctors were going to operate, but she wasn't going to make it."

"That's a very specific time frame." Dean's green eyes were a little darker than a moment ago, and Emma had to bite back a smile. Yeah, he knows where this is going.

"It needs to be. In forty-four days, a nice little doggie is gonna drag my ass all the way to Hell. I wanna know exactly when he's coming."

"You sold your soul?!" Aaaaaand Sam is back.

"For your little sister." It wasn't a question. Emma had a feeling that if anyone could understand what she'd done, it was Dean Winchester.

"Yeah, for Krissy. I figured, what's a little Hell as long as she gets to live a long life?"

"Bobby know?"

"Yeah, Dean, Bobby knows. He's the one that's gonna come salt and burn my bones when it's all said and done."

"How do you know where you'll be?" Sam asked. He was holding a plastic container with what looked like a pie inside of it, and Dean was staring at it like a man lost in the dessert looks at a bucket of water.

"I know. Now, boys, it's been fun but it's time for me to go. It was really nice meeting y'all and everything, but I've lingered here for long enough. Clock's tickin', ya know?"

"Sure you don't want back up?" Sam was sweet and definitely her favorite. She paused in the doorway to the little motel room with a bag containing a half-eaten burger and some cold fries in one hand and a watery soda in the other.

"You've got bigger fish to fry, and I'm future dog chow. Don't worry, you'll forget all about me after a little while. I'll be a blip in your memory. Take care!"

Emma breathed in the night air and started walking. It hasn't been the usual night, not by a longshot, but it's been a good one nonetheless. Now it's time to head to Florida to check on a possible vampire infestation.

**.xXx.**

A black van was parked on the side of a road leading into Gaston, Indiana as a storm raged all around. There'd been no point in trying to drive through the mess, so the van had been parked. Emma Motley was deaf to the storm and passed out in the back after getting worn out during her last hunt when it happened. Quiet little sighs were pushing past her lips to move the hair stubbornly clinging to her cheeks, and her arms were thrown above her head. The light was warm as it wrapped over her skin, and the sleeping hunter didn't even stir. Whispering pleas went unheard to the outside world, and Emma exhaled a single word before falling still. The light sunk into her skin within a few seconds, and it was all over.

**.xXx.**

"Hey, Bobby." Fuck, was that really her voice? Emma barely recognized the wrecked sound squeezing out of her voicebox. She coughed a bit to try and smooth the words out before slowly massaging around the jugular area.

"How ya holdin' up, Em?"

"Hallucinations are getting worse, so I'm guessing it's almost time."

"Fun last day?" It was easy to hear the strain in the older hunter's voice, and Emma tried to picture his face. It's been years since she's actually seen him, she's always on the move for the next hunt with no time to slow down, and a hunter's life doesn't leave much time for beauty sleep.

"I went to see Krissy. She's getting so big, and she looks more and more like Mom every time I see her. You'll check up on her, yeah?"

"Sure I will."

He won't. The world's getting ready to end; the Apocalypse is banging on the front door while Lucifer pilfers through the kitchen. Bobby doesn't have time to check up on some little kid living a perfectly normal life, but he owes her a lie since it's her last day. There's bigger baddies out there, and Emma doesn't expect Bobby to do her any favors after she's dead and gone. It's a nice lie though. A comforting one, even. Dark brown eyes closed as she leaned her head back against the van seat, and she listened to Bobby just breathing on the other end of the phone. If she concentrated hard enough, she could picture the way Krissy looked earlier that afternoon. Her little sister's hair is a lighter brown than her own dark mess and doesn't have the same reddish undertones; it's almost blonde, like their Mom's. It's even long and straight, also like Mom's, instead of wavy like hers. Krissy had been playing softball with her friends. She was smiling and laughing and _healthy_. In the long run, that's all that Emma cares about.

"Where are you?" Bobby's voice popped her back into the present, and she looked around at the street sighs to rattle 'em off. California's a pretty good ways from South Dakota, but this place is mostly deserted. Which is weird since it's April, but whatever.

"I'm gonna walk down to the beach. It's a remote part, so if you haul ass, you should get here before anyone else. I think there's still enough time."

"You're not even gonna fight?"

"What's there to fight? I knew what I was getting into, Bobby." She'd already had her mind made up the night she snuck into the hospital to hold Krissy's hand, just for a moment while she was heavily sedated.

"That's the thing, Em, I don't think ya do. Ya got no idea what's gonna happen to ya when ya down there." Bobby sounded so tired, and Emma hated putting her baggage on him. Unfortunately, there's no else that she trusts quite like the old hunter. Not with this.

"Unimaginable agony and a complete loss of self? The possibility of coming back topside as a demon? I get it, Bobby, I do…but what choice do I have? Go back on the deal and let Krissy die? And don't give me that way-it's-supposed-to-be bullshit. She's a normal kid, and she's going to live a normal life."

"Alright, kid, I'm hearin' ya. Just wish there was another way."

"Another way for a hunter is just letting some other baddie get in the killing swing. It was real nice knowin' ya, Bobby." Emma snapped the phone shut before he could say another word and drew in a shuddering breath. She tossed the phone into the back of the van, kicked her flipflops off, and slammed the door shut behind her.

The warm sand tickled between her toes as she walked out onto the beach, and she dug her toes into the feeling. There was a nice breeze coming over the water and cooling her skin, and she drug her hands through her messy hair as the first few tears fell. After all the years of fighting, it's almost over. She's done, and this is a good place to die. The sand is warm on her feet, and the sun is hanging low in the sky and painting the sky in some beautiful ass colors. The sound of a distant howl made her choke out a laugh that sounded like a sob, and she kept her eyes locked on the water. Krissy had been wearing a red baseball hat, and she had two black lines painted beneath her eyes as she laughed with her friends. Another howl, and it wouldn't be long now.

Definitely a nice place to die.

**SAM**

"You sure this is the place, Bobby?" Sam's eyes scanned the stretch of beach, but he didn't see anything. As they drove on, he noticed a lone black van parked close to the beach.

"Yeah, this is the place. Look, I know we got more important things to do, so thanks for comin' out here with me."

"Emma seemed like a sweet girl." Dean was being unusually quiet as he stared out the passenger window, and Sam had a small idea about why.

"Then you didn't really know Emma." Bobby's smile was fond and a little sad as he parked next to the black van. Sam's eyes scanned the beach, and he tried not to wince at the smudge he could see out on the sand. He tried to look at his brother but Dean's eyes were closed. Bobby grabbed some salt and stepped out, and Sam clambered after him.

"I know we only talked to her for an hour or so, but she seemed like a good person," Sam said as he easily caught up to the older hunter.

"She was. A damned fine hunter too." They stopped next to the body, and Sam had to take a steadying breath. For a moment, all he could see was Dean lying dead in front of him with his body ripped to shreds. This wasn't Dean though. This was Emmaline Grace Motley, a hunter who traded her soul for her little sister's life. So, not Dean but definitely cut from the same cloth. She was barefoot, and her feet seemed untouched. The baggy white shorts she had been wearing were shredded and covered in blood. Her blaringly orange tank top was in the same condition, and Sam really didn't like seeing her insides on the outside. Her dark brown hair was haloed around her head, and wide brown eyes stared unseeing up at the clear blue sky.

"Should we say a few words?"

"Nope. Just a salt and burn. That's all she wanted." Bobby poured on the salt and lit the match, and it was all over. Emma Motley was a body that would never be found, a girl without a family to mourn her, another hunter lost to the life. It was a damn tragedy.

"So, what now?"

"Can you drive the van back? She asked me to keep it, use it however I wanted."

"Yeah, no problem. See you back at the house."

Sam had to let the seat way back before he could even sit inside, and he spent a few moments cradling the old black flipflops from the floorboard in his hands. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the same pair she'd been wearing when they met a month ago. The flipflop he had stepped on in a crowded bar when he accidentally knocked her to the side. She chose to die barefoot. Did she want to feel the sand between her toes before dying? Sam thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd felt a small measure of peace before dying. Sam dropped the flipflops onto the seat beside him and reached for the keys still in the ignition. One of the keychains was a dangling zombie head and another was a huge sunflower. Just who was this girl? Out of curiosity, Sam glanced in the back of the van. There was a small mattress stuffed into the back, a big trunk, a duffel bag with a shirt hanging out of it, and a few other things scattered about. He popped open the glove box, overlooked the usual vehicle paperwork, and pulled out a good-sized leather book. A hunter's journal with lime green shoelaces holding the whole thing together. Large fingers deftly undid the laces and read the first line.

_Emma Motley's Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101_

He laughed. It was wrong, because she was suffering in Hell right now, but he couldn't help it. Suddenly, he wished they had met the young hunter sooner. He would've liked to have known her. Talked to her. Listened to her. From the rearview mirror, a coconut scented air freshener and shot glass from Vegas dangled. He rubbed a thumb over the words on the first page of Emma's journal before carefully tying it closed again. With a weary sigh, he started up the van and pulled away from the beach. There were other things to worry about than a hunter who had said a final farewell, like the looming Apocalypse.

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**Finis: **Cute and fluffy, huh? This story will be told in alternating POVs, between Emma and Sam. I actually didn't plan on Sam, but I've had fun writing him even though I'm pretty sure I'm not getting it right. Oh well. It's meant to be a fun story. There is some gore and torture coming up though, since Emma's going to be in Hell. So, watch out for the Hell scenes.


	2. Chapter 2

**TIB: **Small warning, this chapter has some gore in it. If torture is a trigger, it might be best so skip Emma's scenes. If anyone can't read it and wants to know the highlights, just let me know. Also, for anyone wondering, I picture Kat Dennings as Emma. For visual references.

I'm dedicating this chapter to **KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl**, because you are the first to follow/fave this story and I think your username is awesome. On to the chapter!

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**Chapter Two  
****Disgusted With All The Mushiness**

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**EMMA**

Hell is…well, it's Hell. It's pain, and suffering, and death, and blood, and _screams_. It's curved hooks sinking deep into flesh and watching skin be stripped away one inch at a time. It's being nothing but an existing bag of slick blood and pieced together organs. It's wanting to die and remembering that you did, and look at it where it got you. It's screaming in pain until your tongue is ripped out and then choking as the piece of meat is crammed down your throat. It's the smell of smoke burning your nostrils and curling under your lungs. It's watching someone, some_thing_, hold your brain in its claws and laughing as you attempt to understand how you're still thinking if your brain is all the way over there. So, it's Hell. The worst part though? The worst part isn't the pain and suffering. No, that's to be expected. The worst part is having your torturer smile down at you after you're slowly and painfully stitched back together and asking, "Are you ready for it to end now? Don't you want it to stop?"

"Stop? Oh, darlin', we're just gettin' started. We ain't stoppin' until I'm fuckin' purrin'."

Then, suddenly, there's a blinding light. The light is so bright in the dark pits that it almost hurts as much as the torturing does and then there's nothing. Absolutely nothing, and it's wonderful. A reprieve.

_So bright…so beautiful._

**SAM**

"From the beginning."

"Dean, I told you-"

"From the beginning!" Sam flinched a bit under Dean's gaze, not his yell, and shifted in his seat. Cas and Bobby were staring at him too, waiting for an answer. An answer that he doesn't have. Then again, none of them have an answer for anything. How is Cas alive? Again? At least Dean waited until they were all back at Bobby's before interrogating him.

"I had Lucifer, and we were falling into the pit. Then, I don't know, man…we all separated. Lucifer and Michael were just light, and they were so bright that it hurt to look at them. Adam was beside me, and we were falling slower than Michael and Lucifer. Out of nowhere, this other light grabs us and throws us up. Next thing I know, I'm looking up at you. I don't know who it was, or what it was."

"What's the situation in Heaven?" Dean asked and looked over at Cas.

"Adam is back in his Heaven, and Michael is setting things to right."

"He isn't looking to jumpstart the Apocalypse all over again?" Sam shifted forward in his seat and waited for the answer.

"It does not appear so. He seems almost…remorseful." Dean snorted, Cas glared, and Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, now what?" Bobby asked. Dean looked around at all of them and let his shoulders slump the tiniest bit.

"Now, we do whatever we want. I say Vegas," Dean said with a grin full of teeth.

"I need to return to Heaven. There is still much to be done." Dean glared a bit before shaking his head.

"No time for just a small vacation?" Cas's head tilted to the side, and Dean's shoulders slumped even more. He nodded his head, and Cas was gone with a flutter of wings. The sound plucked at something in Sam's gut, but he couldn't figure out why.

"Vegas?" Sam questioned.

"Hell yeah! We just stopped the Apocalypse and saved the world. We deserve a little downtime. I'm going to pack." Dean strolled off, and Sam watched him walk away. There was going to be a breakdown eventually, but Dean had a point. They did deserve some downtime.

"Hey, Bobby? Is Emma's van still here?"

"Yeah, same place you parked it. Why?" Bobby narrowed his eyes, and Sam just shrugged.

"No reason. She had a lot of books in the back, thought I'd check them out."

"Vacation time means you don't have to do research." Sam just shrugged and ambled out of the house. The big black van was still right where he parked it, and he reached into the glove box. The journal was still right where he left it, and he tucked it inside of his jacket. When he got some free time and was away from prying eyes, he was going to give it a good read. Then, to add credibility to his story, he popped the back door and opened the lock on the trunk. Thankfully, it really was filled with books. Most of them were for the job, and a few were for personal reading pleasure. He let his fingers skim over the titles and then slammed the lid shut. With a mighty heave, he started lugging it inside the house.

**EMMA**

"What did you _do_?"

"Eligos, baby, we've been over this. Last thing I remember is a lot of light. Then I'm here and starin' up at your ugly mug." Something must've happened when the Pit whited out (but it wasn't white, was it?), but she doesn't remember any of it. One moment she'd been relishing the joys of having a serrated blade sawing at her knees and the next there was a light surrounding her that was so bright that it burned away everything else. Unfortunately, demons don't just believe people's words. No trust in Hell. It must've been something bad though, because she's being tortured for information. You know, instead of the regular Welcome-To-Hell garden variety torture.

"You're lying, Gracie, and we both know it. Tell me the truth, and I'll end this." The smile on the demon's face, if you can that ugly mass of flesh a face, was sickly sulfuric. Her intestines were entwined around his wrist, and his pinky claw was slowly sawing away at her spine.

"I don't remember anything, you giant piece of horseshit."

"That one was weak."

"Like your torturing methods?" His grin was all sharp teeth and a slithering tongue, and Emma arched up against the hold on her spinal cord. "Come on and show me what you really got!"

"Emma, love, quit teasing poor Eligos." At the sound of the new voice, Eligos stiffened and ripped his hand out of Emma's ragged insides. Her ripped throat gave a gurgled protest as she looked up at the newcomer. Eligos looks like a traditional demon. Like something you'd see in a Renaissance painting, complete with hooves and a tail. This dude, however, looks like a human. A very tall human, six-four, maybe. He's not a little guy either, but he looks all mixed up. The unlaced heavy black boots and ripped black skinny jeans make her think of some punk kids that used to hang outside the grocery store in her hometown. He's wearing a light gray tee shirt that stretches across his chest and is lightly splattered with blood, and he's wearing a perfectly tailored coat. His black hair is curly and artfully tousled, unlike the bloody lumps that her hair has been reduced to. He's scruffy and beautiful, and Emma kinda hates him.

"This is none of your business, Asmodeus!" Huh, someone who pisses off Eligos. Maybe she shouldn't pass judgment on him so quickly.

"It is, actually. Our sweet little king is dismayed at your progress and is requesting your presence. Don't worry, I'll guard little Emma." Eligos growled, sliced off her left ear, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Such a temper on that one," the new demon sighed as he sat down next to her hip. The bloody mess below her hips is where her legs used to be, before they were pulverized.

"And you're a great big fluffball, huh?" The demon threw his head back in a loud laugh and slapped his denim strangled thigh.

"You have spunk, little love, I'll give you that. Real spunk. How long have you been down here?" Dark green eyes peered down at her, and Emma used her bloody stump of a tongue to wet her lips. There was more blood than saliva, but whatever.

"A little over ten years now. I like watching the clock, when I have eyeballs. Why are there clocks in Hell anyway?"

"Demons are obsessed with time, perhaps because time is different down here. Have you noticed? It's only been a month topside."

"So I've heard. Is this like a good cop bad cop thing? Here to butter me up and hope I spill my guts?" Emma tilted her chin down and nibbled at her blood slick lip. "Well, what guts aren't already hanging out."

"I'm just here to sit with you for a little while. Personally, I don't care about the little light show. Love the way you're messing with Eligos though."

"I'm not messing with him," Emma sighed.

"So you really don't remember?"

"I don't even know what I'm being accused of hiding." A scruffy face filled her vision, and she lazily blinked up at the demon. If she wasn't in Hell and being dismembered on the regular, she'd make a move on the pretty demon.

"You really don't know," the demon whispered with a look of astonishment.

"That's what I've been saying. You demon bastards can't hear worth shit, you know that?"

"I really am sorry, love." For some reason, Emma actually believed him.

"Hand her over, Asmodeus. It's back to the racks for this one." Eligos's loud voice snapped both of their heads to the side, and Emma ran her eyes over the demon that's spent the past year torturing her.

"Back to the racks?"

"Crowley says he doesn't care about you anymore. No skin off his back, I believe the saying is. He said to toss the little bitch back onto the rack. If it happens again, we'll build her a special little cage. Made of her own bones."

"I'll be seeing you, love." Dry lips and a bit of scruff brushed across her forehead and then the demon was gone. Eligos grinned down at her as he dug deep into her torso until he was clutching her spine in his clawed fist. With a heave, Emma was ripped off the table. Her stomach pressed against Eligos's shoulder, and she looked back at the table with a weary sigh. She was leaving her hands and a piece of her scalp behind. Back to the rack it is.

**SAM**

_My first standalone hunt went swimmingly! I mean that quite literally. Damn merman was nothing like Ariel. Although, I did sing a beautiful rendition of "Under the Sea" while I dragged Poseidon's ugly brother out of the water and turned him into my own personal bonfire. I kind of wish that grindylows were smaller, like in Harry Potter, and not exactly man-sized. The thing was eating little kids though, two so far, so something had to be done. That was the easy part. Stitching myself up later was not fun. The damned fish cut a stripe from my hip to my knee. Let's just say that my skinny jeans are officially off the menu for the foreseeable future. I was never good at sewing, despite Mom's best efforts, but I'm really wishing I'd paid more attention now. Also, I'm gonna have to buy some more thread. I think black is more traditional, but I'd rather have any other color than the one I'm sporting now. What kind of monster hunter gets stitched up with pink thread? I guess though, considering it's my first hunt on my own, I did pretty good. I mean, I'm sitting here and able to write, yeah?_

Sam's index finger traced over the words as he tried to picture the scene in his mind. Emma had some lean muscle packed on, but she had been so damned small. And soft. Grindylows weren't very big, but they were mean as hell. She could've picked something easier to fight against for her first ever case, but it sounds like she did a pretty good job. It was interesting, reading Emma's journal. The very beginning hadn't been easy. She'd started it right after her mother's death, and the beginning entries were bitter and filled with hopelessness. Later, after spending time with Bobby and a few other hunters, her entries became lighter. A bit more humorous.

"Sam! Are you coming out or not?!" Sam looked up from the journal to see Dean standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

"Dude, you're reading that thing again?" Sam just shrugged and tied the journal back together with the same lime green shoelaces. He spread his hand against the worn leather and let his thumb lightly stroke the spine. "You should stop reading that, Sam. She's gone. Thinking about her…it's not good for you, man."

"I'm not reading this to keep her memory alive or anything like that. It's just…interesting."

"A hunter's journal is interesting?" Dean asked and crossed his arms.

"Hers is. So, poker tonight?"

"Sammy, it's Vegas. We're going to take in a show!" Sam placed the journal down on his bed, tapped the cover, and followed Dean out of the room.

**EMMA**

"How's the rack, love?" Emma slowly rolled her body and let her head flop to the side.

"Starting to feel like it's made of goose feathers," she drawled.

"Do you know how long you've been down here?" Emma blinked up at Asmodeus, still in his scruffily beautiful meat suit, and shook her head in the negative.

"The last demon bastard took down the clock. Said he was tired of the way I focused on it, when I should be focusing on him. So, how long have I been roasting?"

"Sixty years now. Sixty years without breaking is very impressive. Why won't you just give in, love? The pain will go away if you'll just let it." Strong and gentle fingers combed through the left side of her hair, because her brain is leaking out of the hole in the right side of her skull.

"What's it matter to you? Who cares about who's being tortured and who's doing the torturing?"

"I like you, little Emma. It's been sixty years. You shouldn't still be on the rack."

"I didn't realize there was a time limit."

"There isn't. Most souls break before a decade, and nearly all break before the first century. You don't need to hang on that long. Sixty years is an amazingly long time; you can rest now."

"I like the rack. There's nothing like amputation to wake you up in the morning." Emma cracked a smile and let her body melt against the heated hooks holding her in place. Like she had somewhere else to be.

"So much fire, love. Don't let it get snuffed out." Another whispering kiss was placed on her forehead and then he was gone. Emma's latest torturer stepped up to the plate, and she let her remaining three toes pop. Back when she was alive, she was constantly curling and popping her toes. It was nice knowing that some things never change.

"This time, don't forget to scream."

**SAM**

It's been six months since the Apocalypse that wasn't, and Sam still wakes up in the middle of the night with a blinding light imprinted on the back of his eyelids. After Vegas, Sam and Bobby dragged Dean back to South Dakota. For a little while, none of them really knew what to do. They wanted to do a few hunts, so they did. They didn't want to live on the road anymore though. Even Dean, who had supposedly never thought of another life, wanted to just stop and relax for a bit. So, with Bobby's reluctant blessing, they settled in. One day, Dean bounded into the kitchen and tossed papers onto the table before declaring, "We're building us a house, Sammy!" The blueprints were, in a word, perfect. The mathematical equations were all worked out, and Sam had looked at his brother with new eyes. Then the building started, and Sam has come to realize that building a house is probably the hardest thing he's ever done. Probably because Dean doesn't know what a break is, and that leaves them working from sun-up to past sundown.

"Hey, Sam, Bobby and I are heading out. Sure you don't want to come?" Sam stopped rubbing the towel over his head and looked through his bangs at his brother.

"Dude, we've been working sun up 'til sun down for the past week. I'm not going anywhere. Tell Jody and Harlan I said hey, and I'll see them next time." Harlan was a hunter that had been passing through and decided to say hey to Bobby, on a day that Sherriff Jody Mills was visiting as well. Sam won't call it love at first sight, but he believes it's mighty damn close.

"Yeah, okay. Don't do anything too girly while we're gone," Dean said as he turned away.

"I'll save some nail polish for you!" Sam was smiling as he sprawled across the bed and stretched his arms out. His fingers brushed against something under the pillow, and Sam slowly pulled it out. It was Emma's journal. Dean had them so busy lately that he hadn't had the time to read it in quite a while. He unlooped the shoelaces, found the penny he was using as a bookmark, and started to read.

_I haven't been on a hunt in the past week. I have discovered that hunting isn't all that easy when my entire right arm is out of commission. So, I've been just sitting around and cooling my heels. I've been so busy lately that it feels a little weird to just sit. The only people I've seen for the past two years are diner waitresses with empty eyes, motel clerks when I can't find a shower, freaked out and traumatized victims, and dead people. It's kinda nice though, to just stop and smell the roses. It reminds me of why I decided to stick with this business in the first place. Take for example, today. I went to a local park, sat on a bench, and just watched. It sounds a little creepy and stalkerish, but it really isn't._

_There was this one couple, obviously still in the honeymoon phase. They were sharing a picnic, and they were completely blind to everyone and everything else around them. They laughed, they whispered, and they shared a giant piece of chocolate cake. There was an older lady, with perfectly permed hair, feeding some bread to the ducks. A group of kids were playing hide-n-seek while their mothers sat in a circle laughing as their eyes darted around to check on their running children. Everyone was so happy. Everywhere I looked, there was smiles and laughter. It was like something out of a damned chick flick, but I couldn't even get disgusted with all the mushiness. Nope, instead I had a full on girly moment and nearly started crying. This is why I decided to keep hunting, after the need for revenge was burned out. I'm a hunter because I want to help people, because I want the world to be a happier place. I want the entire world to be like this park._

Sam decided that Emma Motley was a dreamer. Not for the first time, he really wished that he'd had the chance to get to know her.

* * *

**Finis: **So, a little gory. Emma is not having a spa day, that's for sure. You can also see where things are different from canon in this chapter. Sam, Adam, and Michael never go into the Cage. Just Lucifer. (Because in canon, poor Adam has been in the cage _forever_ and that's just not fair.) Also, Sam never hunts soulless and Dean doesn't go to Lisa's. Instead they stay together and build a house behind Bobby's, because that makes me smile. Cas doesn't go all crazy by making deals and sucking souls out of Purgatory, so that drama is avoided. Not that there isn't going to be any drama later on, because _someone_ had to save them, right? That and it's the Winchesters. They can never catch a break.


	3. Chapter 3

**TIB: **No specific warnings for this one. Still a bit gory, but that's to be expected by now. I really like this chapter because it has some of my favorites in it, so I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Three  
****Poster Boy For Goodness**

**EMMA**

"Well, if it isn't Mo's little pet. How ya holding up, Gracie?" Emma blinked against the red haze and remembered that she couldn't actually see anything. You need eyes to see. Come to think of it, her eyelids have been missing for a while so blinking is out of the question too. Where did that last demon toss her eyes to? She'd like them back eventually.

"Still holding strong. Is that you, Meg?" A dark laugh tickled against her eardrums, and she let her tongue prod at the empty places where her teeth used to be.

"I've come to play."

"Oh, goody."

**SAM**

Sam was reading _A Game of Thrones_, a book he found in Emma's trunk, when he heard it. Dean's patented "sonofabitch!" echoing throughout an entire house is never a good thing. Sam was immediately on his feet and rushing down the stairs, instinct taking over. He found Dean and Bobby both on their feet and glaring at the man standing in the middle of Bobby's living room. Sam stopped cold and froze in the doorway. Dark eyes flicked over to him and a glass filled with amber liquid was raised in his direction.

"Thought I heard your clomping hooves."

"Crowley. What's he doing here?" Sam's eyes flicked over to Dean, who looked ready to tear Crowley a new one. Or two.

"That's what we're waitin' on," Bobby grumbled and plunked back down into his seat. Crowley smiled, waved his hand to motion for the two brothers to take a seat, and began to pace.

"Believe it or not, boys, but there are some out there that just don't like me," Crowley finally stated.

"I find that plenty believable," Dean countered.

"There are some that prefer Lucifer's reign to my own." Sam felt his skin get tight and listened as the knuckles of his fingers popped.

"Why are ya here? All of it, this time." Crowley looked at Bobby, looked at the ground, and finally looked at the ceiling.

"A lot of demons are mad at the two of you, for ruining the big plan. They're mad at me, for aiding you and taking over as the King of Hell. They're destroying things down under and have been causing a ruckus topside. Seems as if the Winchesters are taking a break though and haven't risen to the bait."

"You came here to _warn_ us?" Sam asked, a bit incredulously.

"So we're not still friends?" Crowley asked with a barely there pout. At their blank faces and complete silence, the demon rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Meg was standing in front of him. She was covered in blood up to her elbows and a few red streaks were on her cheeks.

"Well, if it isn't the Wondertwins. Why am I here?" Meg questioned.

"Busy torturing again?"

"It works wonders for my stress levels. Why am I here?"

"Tell the Winchesters what you've heard."

As it turns out, Crowley wasn't lying. Meg had been undercover, somewhat, when she discovered what the demons wanted to do. They didn't want to attack the Winchesters outright; they weren't that stupid. No, they wanted to lure them out and wear them down before launching a surprise attack. They also wanted to overthrow Crowley, which didn't sound so terrible on the surface. Crowley, while still an asshole, was pretty good as far as Kings of Hell go. If the new guy (whoever he was exactly) took over, things could get hairy. Meg finished her story, crossed her blood caked arms, and arched a brow. Bobby downed a shot, Dean cussed under his breath, Sam tried not to sigh like a teenage girl, and Crowley just grinned.

"So, any plans?" Crowley asked.

"Want us to go after them? Guns blazing?"

"Three humans against a horde of demons? Be my guest. Where's your angel?"

"Playing soldier boy in Heaven. It's just us now." Sam decided he could sigh all he wanted, because Dean was the one that sounded like a teenage girl whose crush refused to acknowledge her.

"I'll send someone that I can trust to help you along. Meg will keep playing the double agent, won't you?"

"Playing double agent against who?" Meg puckered her lips to blow a kiss and then disappeared.

"What do you mean, send someone? We're not babysitting some demon!" Dean yelled.

"I'll send Mo." Crowley disappeared after that, and the room was silent.

"Well, you got a vacation that lasted a little over a year. 'S more than what most hunters get," Bobby pointed out.

**EMMA**

"Can you hear me, love?"

"Yeah." For once, Emma was completely whole. It usually doesn't last long, so she normally tries to enjoy the sensation for as long as she can. She tensed her body, slowly relaxed, and opened her eyes to look up at Asmodeus. He carded his strong fingers through her hair, like he's wont to do, and smiled at her. He's still in the same meat suit, so he must be partial to it.

"I'm leaving for a little while. Going topside for the first time in nearly two thousand years." Asmodeus, _Mo_, let out a long breath at the omission.

"Is that Hell years or Earth years?"

"Earth years." Emma sucked in a breath and held it before pushing it out. Damn, Mo is really old. Like _ancient_. What's he doing petting her hair and giving her cutesy little forehead kisses? He should be out pillaging, or something.

"Well, things are a lot different."

"I know. I've got cable." Mo shrugged and let his fingers drag across her jugular. She still has a pulse, which is weird since she's dead and everything. She doesn't even have a body. She's just a soul that looks like her body, for now. She's pretty sure she'll be dismembered soon enough.

"Well, have fun. Try not to get herpes." Mo's light laugh washed over her, and Emma basked in the simplicity of the sound. Oh, to laugh in Hell…it must be a wonderful feeling. The only time Emma laughs is when she's being torn apart. As if hearing her thoughts, which is entirely possible, Mo's eyes narrowed down at her.

"One hundred and fifty years, Emma. This is starting to get a little ridiculous."

"It can stay ridiculous. I'm not torturing anyone, Mo. I came here to be tortured."

"For all your many sins?"

"Something like that. Have fun topside. I'll be here when you get back." Another one of those little kisses later, Emma was alone. Dark brown eyes stared up into the never ending darkness and focused on why she was there. Her little sister. She was in Hell to save her little sister. The little sister with brown hair so light that it looked almost blonde, and she was on the honor roll. She was alive and healthy, and that's all that really matters. She's safe…what's her name again?

**SAM**

Sam sneaked a look over at the new demon companion for the hundredth time in the past hour. The guy was…well, he wasn't what Sam was expecting. So far, he seemed okay. As okay as demons can be. He had a serious problem with touching stuff though. Like now. He's moving around the room and letting his fingers trail over the titles of all the books in Bobby's living room. His curly black hair was all over the place, and his unlaced boots thunked across the ground even though he was moving quietly. Using him in a sneak attack was going to be next to impossible.

"So, Asmodeus-"

"-call me Mo-"

"-okay…So, Mo, why exactly are you here?"

"To lend a helping hand. For some reason, Crowley seems to want you two alive. I think I'm the only one he trusts, except for Meg, and that's only occasionally."

"Why does Crowley trust you? I thought demons trusted no one?" The demon paused and twisted around just enough for Sam to get a look at dark green eyes peering out of a scruffy face.

"Perhaps trust is the wrong word to use, but I have never given Crowley any reason to doubt my loyalties."

"So you're loyal to Crowley?" Where were Dean and Bobby? It does not take an hour to do a supply run, and Sam didn't like being the one left to deal with a demon.

"No, I'm loyal to Hell. Not to be confused with being loyal to Lucifer. He always was a pretentious little asshole, but, I suppose, I'm the fool that followed after him." The demon's lips twisted into the parody of a smile, and Sam felt his curiosity warring against his distrust of all things demonic. What can he say? He learned his lesson.

"You followed after Lucifer?"

"Bad decision on my part. He was beautiful, once, and filled with a light so bright that it burned. After the Fall, he gathered his generals for the great war. Myself and others followed him, and we were struck down in battle. Lucifer was bound to his Cage, and those of us that were still alive were cast into Hell."

"How many of you are left?" The demon walked over to where Sam was sitting and gracefully dropped onto the floor in front of him. His eyes were open as he stared up at the hunter, and Sam had to fight the urge to fidget under such an unwavering stare. What? Unwavering stares are really uncomfortable, unless you happen to be in love with the person staring at you. (Sam's not thinking about anyone in particular that applies to. Honestly.)

"I was the second demon ever created, second only to Lilith. The others looked up to me, and I watched the angels burn them from the inside out. I watched and did nothing, and I have stayed in Hell for centuries and watched as souls were tortured until nothing human remained. I am not a good anything, Sam Winchester, but I do not…I do not want this world to end because of my kind."

Those eyes were so dark and pleading, and it hit him like a semi. This demon, Asmodeus, knew something. He knew something big, so why didn't he tell Crowley? Unless, of course, the demon didn't trust the current King of Hell. Which wouldn't be all that surprising…because, _demons_. So why did he want to tell Sam? It's not like he was a poster boy for goodness. Still though, if this demon knew who wanted Lucifer out and free, Sam had to try and find out.

"You know who's trying to free Lucifer." Full lips pinched into a nonexistent line, but the demon didn't look away. Sam suddenly realized that Dean and Bobby were back in the room, standing just behind the sitting demon, but he couldn't look at them. He couldn't mess this up, not until he found out what this demon knows.

"Lucifer created us to blaspheme against Heaven's holiest, to help him rage against everything our Father held dear. I am one of the few disgraced angels left. Besides me, only two of the first Fallen are strong enough to take on Crowley and release Lucifer."

"Which two?" There were so many different theories and speculations about the first Fallen angels and therefore the first demons, but at least having names would be a good starting point.

"Beelzebub and Abaddon." It was a quiet omission, and the demon looked down at his unlaced boots afterwards.

"You were an angel once, and you chose to Fall. Beelzebub fell with you. Did Abaddon Fall?" The demon shook his head and ran a hand through his unruly black hair.

"Beelzebub decided to Fall with the rest of us, but he held onto his grace. Like I should have." The demon paused to shrug before continuing on, "Abaddon didn't have to Fall. Abaddon was created to do Hell's bidding. To spread destruction across Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Together, they will be unstoppable."

"You sayin' we don't have a chance?" Dean's rough voice seemed to shock the demon, who tensed all over before meeting Sam's eyes. Not Dean's.

"Before, I would have believed that nothing and no one could stop Lucifer from getting what he wanted. However, in light of recent events, I think I will have to redefine the word impossible. At least when compared to Winchesters. You know, the only reason I'm topside after so many years is because of you two. I wanted to see who messed up Lu's big plans," the demon said with a little smile. The guy was kinda creepy and used to be an angel, but he was alright. In a creepy fallen-angel-turned-demon kind of way. His eyelashes fluttered as he laughed, and Sam finally looked away from him to look at Dean. His older brother looked just as confused at the shocked sounding laugh, and Dean just shrugged.

"Something funny?" Dean asked.

"There's a particular little soul in Hell, just a small wisp of a thing, that's been roasting on the rack for a century and a half. Hell years, that is. I like tuning in to her; she comes up with the most colorful insults when her limbs start coming off." Okay, that was possibly the creepiest thing that Sam had ever heard. Well, maybe not the creepiest. It was just the way the demon looked; like he was awed and proud, and maybe a little bit confused and sad. It was also said with a soft smile.

"A century?" Dean looked pale and shaky, and Sam suddenly wondered if Dean was thinking about his time spent in Hell. Dean spent forty years down there, Hell time, and only thirty of them were spent on the rack. This soul had been down there for one hundred and fifty years, and was still alive? Or whatever?

"Is that even possible?" Sam asked.

"It's not impossible, but it is rare. Normally a soul is locked away once reaching Hell. Souls that are there from making a deal go to the racks, where they are tortured until they pick up a knife. After that, they carve away at other deal makers until their souls completely burn out."

"And turn to smoke," Bobby huffed.

"Mmm, yes. Most break instantly. A human soul lasting over a decade is very rare." The demon was looking at Sam as he quirked an eyebrow, and Sam knew that he was thinking about Dean. The Righteous Man, who lasted thirty years before getting off the rack.

"Well, we've got names so let's get to work." Sam nodded at Bobby's words and ignored the demon still sitting at his feet. There was work to do; Apocalypses to avert. The usual.

**EMMA**

"How's it going today, Gracie?" Emma peeled her cheek away from the table she was on and groaned when most of her cheek got left behind. Story of her life, man.

"Meggie! That makes three times this decade. Things topside not working out for ya, huh?" Meg jammed her arm so far up Emma's filleted torso that the fallen hunter felt blunt nails scraping across her sluggishly beating heart.

"Demons working with hunters against demonic angels. My whole world has gone topsy-turvy, but I'll always have you," Meg cooed as she broke off a rib. The splintered bone punctured through a heaving lung, and Emma shook as she tried to pull in breath that she shouldn't need. What was the point of dying if her soul still thought she needed oxygen?

"Rumors are true then. Someone's out to overthrow Crowley and spring Lucifer?" She kept forgetting little things about her life, like her favorite flavor of suckers or if she was any good in school. She remembered Crowley though. It was hard to forget the demon you sold your soul to after all.

"Mhmm, and things are starting to get messy." Things other than her torso, because Meg looked delighted at carving out one of her kidneys.

"I thought that was just how you liked it?" Emma asked with a wink. Meg plucked out her eye and rolled it between her fingers.

"Messy is fine, but I'm stuck working with the Winchesters. Those two are more likely to kill me than to save me." Winchesters…something about the name tickled at the edges of a long forgotten memory.

"Sounds like a fun partnership. I didn't know you demon bastards were so trustworthy." This time Meg's fingers dug past the raw wound in her cheek until she could rip out some molars.

"You'll be a demon one day. All demons start with a deal," Meg whispered into her ear. The ear that she was holding in the palm of her hand. Emma gave up on trying to figure out Hell physics over a century ago.

"And give up the rack? Never."

**SAM**

_You'll never believe what I did last night! Go on, give it a guess. Give up? I got to a job before the Winchesters! Unbelievable, right? Those two are __GODS__ in the hunter community, and I actually beat them to the punch. Or to the grave. So what if it was just a simple salt and burn? I'm still counting it as a win. The best part? They're normal. Well, normal for people who kill things for a living. The oldest one, Dean, has a stare that cuts right to the soul…but I feel like we're kindred spirits. When I told them about the deal I made for Krissy, I think he understood. I think he might be the only person who understands that I didn't make this deal for me; I made it for the one person I love more than anyone else. Despite that, the youngest one, Sam, is definitely my favorite. Dude is built like a shit brickhouse, but he's got the eyes of a puppy. I've never been so conflicted before. Half of me wanted to just hold him and pet his hair, and the other half of me wanted to climb him like a tree. _

_Back on track! I met the Winchesters, and they're just men. They're not gods, which is comforting. So many of the other hunters that I've run across, the fuckin' gossip queens, hate the Winchesters because of this whole Apocalypse thing. Dean jumpstarted it when he did a no-no in Hell; I'd like to see any of them survive four months in Hell without going bonkers. Then Sam accidentally finished it off and actually started the Apocalypse…so what? I seriously doubt that the friendly giant did it on purpose. Now Lucifer is out and about, and it's the End of Days. So fucking what? For hunters, it's always the End of Days, isn't it? What's it matter if the Devil is tap dancing across the globe? He's just another monster waiting in line for a bloody ending. _

_We're all going to die someday, right? At least dying in an Apocalypse sounds cooler than choking to death on a hotdog. _

Emma Motley was always going to be a mystery to him. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she'd go and say something that surprised him. Sam scrubbed a hand across his face and gently retied the journal. He should be sleeping, or researching. Not reading a dead hunter's journal. A board creaked, and Sam tensed as he looked up. Mo was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, with his arms crossed over his plain gray tee shirt. His jacket was missing, and his curly hair was sticking up more than usual. The demon has been hanging around for a little over three months now, but Sam still feels a little shock whenever he sees him. Mo is definitely the weirdest demon they've ever reluctantly worked with. He's quiet and sometimes helpful. At least Meg glares and snarls at them, like a demon should when forced into close quarters with a Winchester.

"You should be resting, Sam. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Mo said quietly. The demon is the one that normally reminds him and Dean about little things like sleeping and eating, because he's normally around. Meg only pops in when she's needed or when she's heard something. Even Crowley has put in a few appearances. Sam thought Crowley would be MIA after the Non-Apocalypse and returning Bobby's soul, but life never seems to work out that way. There just had to be another world-in-the-balance emergency to force them back into a non-trusting partnership.

"Yeah, I know," Sam huffed. They were going after some demons a few hours away, hopefully for a little intel on Beelz and Abaddon. They'd switched to Beelz because Dean couldn't say Beelzebub with a straight face.

"What's keeping you awake?" Mo was a demon, through and through, but he was…a friendly demon? He was a nicer demon than most and surprisingly easy to talk to.

"Just reading an old hunter's journal." He lightly tapped the book and pressed his palm flat again the lime green shoelaces.

"A friend?"

"No. Only met her once actually, but she was…she was a good person." Mo's nose wrinkled as he let his hands fall to his sides, and he pushed off from the doorframe with a shrug.

"Then I am sorry for the loss. Please, get some rest, Sam."

"Yeah. Night, Mo." Apparently, demons didn't need to sleep. Sam flipped his lights off and buried himself under his blankets, and he tried not to think about Emma. She died a year and a half ago, so thinking about her won't do anyone any good. By now, she's probably nothing but smoke. Still, she didn't blame him (or Dean) for the Apocalypse. It was refreshing, not being blamed, even if it was his fault.

**.xXx.**

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, which detailed the many sins of Beelzebub, as Dean and Meg walked back into the room. They were both covered in blood up to their elbows with other various splatters, and Dean was dragging a wet towel across his face. The old house they were in had thin walls, so Sam didn't have to use too much imagination to figure out just what had gone down in the basement. Normally he'd want to be there for the questioning, but he hated watching Dean use the skills he learned in Hell. The skills he learned from Alistair, who was also Meg's teacher. Instead of watching, Sam was in a giant wingback chair in what passed for a living room with an ancient demon sitting at his feet. He should probably be more freaked out, but this was a normal part of his life now.

"Anything useful?" Sam asked. Mo just hummed and flipped to another page.

"Nothing," Dean huffed and ran the towel over his arms.

"They're grunts, just like all the others. They've never even seen the bosses," Meg clarified. Sam's noticed that after every failed interrogation, Meg looks a little more wound up. Right now, she's tense and pacing. Dean's tense and scrubbing at his arms to get the blood off.

"Stay calm, Meg. We will eventually find a middle man," Mo said in that quiet voice of his. The man was only an inch shorter than Sam; his voice shouldn't be so soft.

"Yeah, well, I'll just have a little fun with your favorite chewtoy while we wait." It was said with a slow grin, and Sam watched as Mo slowly lifted his head and _growled_ at the female demon.

"She's been through enough without suffering through your inadequacies," the normally calm demon bit out. Meg's sharp laugh was cold and echoed in the mostly empty room.

"My inadequacies? It's your old buddies we're hunting down. Shouldn't you be able to find them?"

"You know they don't like me very much." The older demon was back to his usual relaxed self, and Meg was back to pacing.

"It's been two thousand years," Meg huffed.

"Angels and demons are very good at holding grudges."

"Why don't they like you?" Sam asked.

"After we lost the battle and Lucifer was thrown into the Cage, Beelz wanted to keep fighting. I didn't see the point. Only a handful of the first demons remained, and none of them were very strong. Lucifer was in a cage until the Apocalypse, and I was tired of fighting. I stood down and confined myself to Hell. Beelz and Abaddon fought on, and they were banished by Michael. I imagine it's taken them this long to get free and start regaining their strength. I can only imagine how upset they were after learning that the Apocalypse started and failed before they had a chance to join in."

"You're a sorry excuse for a demon," Meg threw out.

"Perhaps I am getting rusty in my old age," Mo sighed. Sam was still going over all the new information. Something about Mo's tone was a little too casual. After spending the past few months with the demon always hanging around, he's picked up on little things about him. Whenever Mo talks about events he was personally involved in, it's easy to hear the regret coloring his words. He never talks about this kind of stuff casually, so something is off. But what?

"What about your angelic lover? Can't he lend a hand?" Meg asked and looked over at Dean. Sam pulled himself out of his own head to watch Dean's reaction, which was to glare at Meg. Sam hasn't seen Cas since the night he was saved from falling into the Cage, but Dean has seen the angel a few times. Normally for only a minute or two. Just little updates on the state of Heaven, like how Michael has started running it properly with Cas as his second in command.

"Cas is—" A very loud flutter of wings cut off whatever Dean was about to say, and both demons instantly tensed up. Sam could see the way Mo seemed to curl in on himself at his feet, and he could see Meg holding herself like she was prepared to run out of the corner of his eye. Cas was standing in the center of the room, in the same suit and trench coat as always, but he wasn't alone.

"Why are you wearin' our dad?!" Dean had dropped the towel to grab one of his many knives, but he slowly returned it to wherever it came from once he realized who was in the room. And Dean had a point. That was definitely the young John Winchester they visited when Anna was trying to kill Mary before Dean and Sam could be born. The same straight spine, thick black hair, and dark hazel eyes.

"It is not John Winchester's body; this vessel is merely an imitation of his appearance." Yeah, that was definitely Michael. There was a kind of quiet command in his soft tone that all the archangels seemed to have.

"You tellin' me that you can just _make_ a vessel?" Sam could hear the unasked question under the words. If they could just make a vessel, why did Michael and Lucifer need him and Dean in the first place?

"Only archangels have the ability, but it severely reduces our strength." So, not fighting on all cylinders. Made sense. Still sucked.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked as he crossed his arms. His brother was making a point of looking at Michael and avoiding Cas, just like the lovesick girl he is.

"We have come to ask for a favor," Michael said with a bowed head. It was so unlike the Michael he briefly remembered and even less like the Michael he'd heard about. The most powerful archangel was _asking_ for a favor?

"And why should we help you? In case you haven't noticed, we're a little busy down here trying to keep the Apocalypse from starting up again!" Yelling at angels was never a good idea, but Dean is special. And not just because he's the Righteous Man or whatever.

"Yes, we are aware, and we have come to help. Raphael has agreed to tend to Heaven in our absence, and we are here to offer our services. First, however, Castiel and I have something that we must do. Another angel will join you until we return."

"What's the favor?" Michael and Cas looked at each other before turning as one to look at Dean. It was a little creepy. Very creepy.

"I need you to return to Elysian Fields and retrieve Gabriel's vessel," Michael said quietly. Was the soft voice an angel thing? No, that couldn't be right, because Cas's voice sounded like gravel.

"Why do you need his vessel?" Sam heard himself ask. It's been a year and a half since Gabriel died, so why get the vessel now? Michael met Cas's eyes, and the subordinate angel nodded his head to a silent question. Michael looked at both Sam and Dean before looking at the floor between his feet.

"We have located his grace." It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and Sam distantly heard the book in his hands creaking as his knuckles turned white. Gabriel's…grace?

"Where?" Apparently, he was the first to recover.

"How?" And now Dean's able to talk again.

"We believe that when Lucifer stabbed Gabriel, his grace was able to escape before being fully pierced. It must have latched onto the first suitable vessel," Cas explained. It was good to hear the angel's rough voice again. Sam was starting to think he'd never hear it again.

"I thought he needed permission." Angels always needed permission, didn't they?

"Someone must have said yes, but we don't know who."

"Just spit it out already!" And now Dean is getting impatient, and somehow still not getting smited by angels.

"As far as we can tell, Gabriel's grace is inside Hell. Sam, do you remember the light?" Michael asked and turned to look at him. Mo curled up even tighter, if possible, under the archangel's gaze.

"When we were thrown out? Yeah, I remember." It was hard to forget that light; it's been over a year, and he's still dreaming about the way it burned his eyes.

"I think that was Gabriel's grace; I think he was the one that saved us from Lucifer's fate. Asmodeus, did you witness it?" The ancient demon wrapped his arms around his upraised knees and leaned slightly to the side so that his shoulder pressed against Sam's knee.

"Nearly all of Hell witnessed it. Several of the lesser demons were completely burned out."

"Do you know who it came from?" Asmodeus slowly shook his head and rubbed his palms across his shins.

"The light came from a grouping of souls on the racks. They were each split up and interrogated separately, but it was never determined which soul the light came from."

"Crowley has agreed to escort us through Hell, but it will take us some time to sort through all the souls. It would be a great help if Gabriel's vessel was already recovered when we returned," Michael whispered. He was still looking at Mo, who was looking at his own knees. Huh, right. Asmodeus was an angel once, an angel that stood with Lucifer against Michael and was one of the first angels to become a demon.

"We'll be at Bobby's," Dean said and effectively broke up the little staring match.

"Castiel, fetch Balthazar." With a parting look at Dean, Cas disappeared in a flutter of wings. "Castiel will meet you at your home with the angel that will be assisting you. Asmodeus, I hope you remain with them."

"I will, Michael." The archangel disappeared like Cas did a moment before, and the room seemed a little airier now that it was angel-free. It was definitely easier to breathe. Mo and Meg both relaxed a small fraction, and Sam's mind was all over the place.

"Sonofabitch!" And that about summed it all up.

* * *

**Finis: **A little heavy on the dialogue, but that's because I like dialogue. I also love Mo, because he's the sweetest demon ever. You know, now that he's not killing people left, right, and center. Anywho! My other faves in this chapter are Crowley and Meg…and Gabriel! I've been praying for his return since he died, so I'm writing my own triumphant return for the funniest angel. I think that's about all for this chapter…yep! If there's any questions, I'm always happy to talk.


	4. Chapter 4

**TIB: **No big warnings for this chapter. There's some more gore and unpleasantness but if you've made it this far, I'm sure you're used to it. Big thank-you to **KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl**! Your reviews made me smile, and Gabe is one of my favorite all-time characters too.

* * *

**Chapter Four  
****Nothing Makes Sense Here**

* * *

**EMMA**

"Dear, sweet little Emma. Do you remember me?" The remaining eye struggled to open and find the source of today's taunting torturer. Tall, female, long black hair, and sparkling green eyes.

"Did I kill you or fuck you?" It's hard to smile with her bottom lip ripped off, but she's learned how to work around everything over the years. A soft hand traced up her sternum before resting over her throat and digging her nails in.

"Both." Emma's laughing scream blended in with all the others as another demon got its revenge.

**SAM**

"Dean." Sam looked away from his book at the rumbling voice and watched the way that Dean tensed up. One day, his brother was going to realize that he was completely gone for the angel and put all the tension to rest. Still, now isn't the time to psychoanalyze his brother. Mo was once again sitting at his feet and leaning back against the side of the chair that Sam was perched in, and Meg was long gone. Bobby was at his desk and just glaring around at all of them, probably wondering why they were all in his house when Sam and Dean had their own house in the backyard.

"These two are the great heroes that stopped the Apocalypse?" the other angel asked. He was around the same height as Castiel, but his vessel looked a few years older. He also just looked different. His black slacks and blazer actually fit him, for one, and he was wearing a really deep V-neck.

"This guy is an angel?" Dean threw out.

"You must be Dean, so that makes you Sam, yes?" Huh, he had a British accent. Sam nodded and watched as the angel glared at his feet before looking back to Cas. Did this angel know Mo too?

"This is Balthazar. He will help you locate Gabriel's vessel and tend to it until we return."

"Yes, tend to it, like it's some great bloody honor. Next time, remind me to hide when Michael starts handing out rewards," Balthazar huffed. Sam was starting to get the feeling that they were doing more than just going to pick up a body. Cas glared at Balthazar for a moment before turning back to look at Dean.

"We will return as soon as possible." Just like that, Cas was gone. Sam watched the way the muscle in Dean's jaw ticked and tried not to laugh. This was a very serious situation. Two ancient demonic angels were out to jumpstart the Apocalypse and free Lucifer, demons were causing a ruckus all over the place, and two other angels were marching into Hell to recover the grace of an archangel. Now wasn't the time to laugh about his brother's relationship issues.

"Well, boys, you should get going. And take both of your pets with you!" Bobby snapped.

"What am I? A bloody parrot?"

"Perhaps I should stay here and keep researching?" Mo asked quietly.

"Scared of an angel, demon boy?" Sam glared over at his brother, because that wasn't fair. Okay, well, Mo wasn't the holiest being out there…but Sam got the sense that Mo really regretted the things he's done. Being around another angel is probably uncomfortable, since he used to be one.

"Asmodeus isn't scared of me. I'm just a baby compared to the prince." Mo seemed to flinch at the words, so there had to be some kind of history there. According to Peter Binsfeld's classification of demons, there were seven princes of Hell. Was that what Balthazar was referring to?

"All of ya, quit your bitchin' and get movin'! There's an archangel out there dependin' on ya. The poor bastard." Mo and Balthazar quit staring at one another, Sam sighed, and Dean threw his arms in the air before stalking off. This was not going to end well.

**EMMA**

"What'd ya stop for?" Emma huffed out. She was only partially skinned, just her legs, and Meg normally didn't stop until all the skin and a few organs were missing.

"You can't hear it?" Her ears strained to hear anything, but it was just more of the usual.

"All I hear is screams. Spidey senses tingling?" A strip of skin over her ribcage was ripped off, and Emma nearly bit her tongue in half to keep from screaming.

"Sounds like Crowley has his hands full with some rioting demons. Serves him right for bringing angels here." Emma wiggled a bit and let that sink in. Angels were in Hell? No, better yet, angels were in the Pit? Huh, looks like things were finally going to get interesting down here.

**SAM**

"Shouldn't he be a bit more, I dunno, decomposed?" Someone had taken the time to bury Gabriel's vessel in the middle of nowhere underneath a beautiful tree. Sam wasn't really sure how Balthazar was able to track it, but he had a feeling that Dean's comment about bloodhounds wasn't far off. Not that Sam was gonna stand behind Dean on that one, because the angel had a very icy glare. At least they've made it this far without any casualties. Dean's got a point this time too; Gabriel's vessel looks like he could've died minutes ago instead of nearly two years.

"Gabriel wasn't inhabiting a human vessel, so it won't decompose," Mo said quietly. Balthazar was busy wrapping the body in a blanket after using some angel mojo to clean all the dirt off.

"Huh," was all Dean had to say as they worked to refill the hole. Gabriel wasn't in a true vessel, or a human vessel at all, when he took on Lucifer. Lucifer was at least in a human vessel, so Gabriel had to have known that he couldn't win against him. If he knew, was he prepared for Lucifer's attack? Is that why his grace was able to escape before he was killed? So many questions…and no answers. Not yet at least.

"What happens next?" Sam asked Balthazar as they walked back to the car. The angel was carefully holding the body like it would break if he slipped.

"We get him to a safe place, and I'll work on preparing the body for Gabriel's grace. It's been damaged, so it'll take me some time." For once, Balthazar gave a serious answer without any sarcasm. That was some progress.

"Why you? Out of all the angels, why you?" Up ahead, Sam watched as Mo's shoulders tightened. The demon continued talking to Dean, but he was stiff.

"I was Gabriel's entrusted general, before he ran away from home." That, actually, made a little bit of sense. Sam could see Gabriel and Balthazar as friends.

"And Mo?" Balthazar cut his eyes over at Sam and raised a brow, but Sam just shrugged. He'd already asked; it wasn't like he could take it back or anything.

"Some stories are better left untold."

**EMMA**

"How long has it been, Gracie?" The few demon riots had been quieted, and Emma was missing the distraction it gave. Now that the little riots were over, the torturers were getting creative again. Eh, at least her suffering is an outlet for…something.

"Two weeks." Two weeks of hanging from a ceiling by her ankles. Her head should've popped off by now, but that's Hell logic for you. Nothing makes sense here. A large hand yanked her hair back to expose her throat, and a rusty blade nearly cut her head off. Emma watched as her own blood spilled into the small tub. It kind of reminded her of the old tin tubs people would wash clothes in, and she watched as all the blood she had was shaken into it. Wow, the human body has a lot of blood. Well, she had a feeling that was more than the normal amount. Again, Hell logic.

When the tub was half full, the demon stitched her up with a rusty needle and some skin taken off her back. It didn't make any sense, but there ya go. Once the rip in her throat was closed, the hooks in her ankles were ripped out. Her bare body hit the hard ground, and she groaned as she felt the bones in her face shifting and breaking. She didn't have a lot of time to just lay around though, because the demon grabbed another handful of her hair and yanked her up onto her knees. Her poor, poor knees. The memories of her time on Earth were so faint now, but she knew that her knees were always bruised and scraped. Here, in Hell, was no different. Well, when she _had_ knees. The demon drug her across the floor until she was kneeling in front of the tub of her blood.

"Am I bobbin' for apples?" The demon grinned, tightened his grip, and forced her head into the tub. Fingers scrambled against the edge of the tub, slicing them to the bone as she fought, and her legs blindly kicked as she tried to get out of the tub. She was drowning in her own blood. Drowning…drowning…drowning.

**SAM**

_What are people supposed to do on their last day on Earth? Should I gorge on chocolate until I'm so full that I can't breathe? Should I get so drunk that I won't be able to feel the hellhound's teeth? Should I go find one last lay and enjoy one of life's simple pleasures one last time?_

_Well, I'm not going to do any of that. I am eating a Hershey bar, because I can't die without one more Hershey bar. I'm not gonna get drunk or laid though. I've done enough of that for a lifetime. I'm not even gonna kill one last monster, because I'm done with that too. No, I'm going to do the one thing that I really want to do. I'm going to sit on this uncomfortable metal bleacher, surrounded by soccer moms and crying babies, and I'm going to watch a little league softball game. Because I am not going to die without seeing Krissy one last time, and she looks so…__happy__. Her team is winning, and, not to brag, but I'm sure Krissy's two homeruns and three outfield catches have something to do with it. _

_I should be scared, right? By this time tomorrow, I'll be gone. I won't even be a memory, because who will remember me? A few hunters, maybe some of the people I helped out, but that's it. And I am so completely okay with that. I don't want anyone to mourn me; I think that's what makes this so easy. I'm saving someone without hurting anyone. Win-win, right? You know what else? It's a beautiful day. The sky is blue, it's warm, and it smells like spring. So what if I'm about to die? My little sister is healthy, and there's a cloud over the softball field that looks like a bunny. It's the little things in life. _

There was a small doodle of a fluffy rabbit at the bottom of the page, and Sam let his fingers trace it for a moment. It was Emma's last journal entry, dated the day she died. Behind the last page were two pictures taped to the inside of the cover, and he took a moment to just look at them. The top one showed a woman with hair so light that it looked blonde, and she was holding a baby in one arm so that her other arm could wrap around a young teenage girl's shoulders. Emma, her mother, and her little sister. The second picture was of a young girl, maybe six or seven, building a sandcastle on the beach. Her hair was the same color as her mother's, and she was laughing. This was the little sister that Emma gave her soul for; the little sister that she checked up on over the years. (And Sam knew that she did, because the journal was filled with small lines about Krissy's life. Little things from a new toy to winning an ice cream in a spelling bee.)

He was a little sad about finishing the journal. Emma Motley had been a good person and a really good hunter. A lot of hunters hardened over the years, and Sam got that. He really did. You can only see so many mangled bodies and kill so many different things before it takes its toll. Emma, despite all of that, managed to hold onto the simplest things in life. Some of her journal entries were dark, like finding a vamp nest filled with small broken bodies. The entry right after that went into deep detail over the delicious goodness of some kind of ice cream cookie. She looked for the good in things instead of becoming a pessimist, not that she wasn't realistic. Her entries were always blunt and honest, but there was a balance. He hated the thought of her roasting in Hell. A soul like hers belonged in Heaven.

"You must really like that book." Sam jumped and had to scramble to keep the journal from falling off his lap. Asmodeus was standing in his doorway, with his hair flat on one side and his jacket missing. Sam carefully closed the journal and tied it up again.

"It's a good read. Where's Dean and Balthazar?" They were back…home. (And how weird was it that Sam and Dean had an actual home now? A two-story home with a sturdy basement, a small library, and guest bedrooms?) They all split up as soon as they got back, and that was a few hours ago.

"Dean is sleeping, and Balthazar is still with Gabriel's vessel." Mo shifted a little and drug a hand through the flat side of his hair, effectively messing it up again.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" Mo opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and then moved farther into the room. Sam expected him to sit beside him on the bed, but the scruffy demon folded his legs and dropped to the ground instead. Dark green eyes looked up at him as fingers drummed against his boots, and Sam decided not to push. The demon would talk when he was ready.

"I haven't been in an angel's presence in years. Over two thousand, at least. When Lucifer was freed, I hid." He paused to shrug and pull at his hair for a moment. "Michael was my older brother, and I stood against him in battle. I was tossed into Hell for it, but I have no one to blame but myself. As for Balthazar, we were once very close. Just another brother that I let down."

"So you're not scared of them?" Dean was the one that asked earlier, but Mo never really got a chance to answer.

"Scared? Maybe. There's nothing keeping them from smiting me, is there? Mostly it just hurts to look at them. They're so _bright_," Mo whispered. Huh, angels and demons really can see more than humans.

"For what it's worth, I don't think any of them want to kill you." It was true. Sam hadn't felt any hatred in Michael's stare, and Balthazar didn't really talk to Mo.

"You should get some more rest, Sam. We'll all need to be ready when Michael and Castiel return." The demon fluidly got to his feet and smiled one last time before leaving the room. Polite demons and sarcastic angels. The world was a weird place.

**.xXx.**

"Hey, Balthazar, you okay?" Sam was standing in his kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, and feeling a little exposed. It was the middle of the night, and Mo normally stayed in the library while the rest of the house slept. Well, while Sam and Dean slept. Sam was still a little confused about what Balthazar did with Gabriel's vessel in one of the guest rooms.

"I think I'm hungry," the angel said with a confused look at his stomach. He was still fully dressed (shoes, jacket, the works) but his blonde hair was sticking up.

"I thought angels didn't eat." The only time Sam ever saw Cas eat was when he was affected by Famine, and he hasn't seen Balthazar anywhere near the kitchen in the month that he's been here.

"We don't, but I have been expending a _lot_ of energy on Gabriel's vessel. Please tell me you have something edible in here." Balthazar pushed past him to get to the refrigerator, and Sam stumbled back to lean against a counter and watch the angel pull out ingredients for…something. At first, Sam was confused about why Dean designed a big kitchen. Turns out, his big brother is a really good cook. Like, really good. So the kitchen is normally fully stocked because Dean gets in moods and sometimes starts cooking. Like the time he made a soufflé at three in the morning, because of reasons. He still hasn't elaborated on the reasons.

"Sammy! Where the hell—there you are! Hey! What are you doin' in my kitchen?!" Sam was gonna get mental whiplash. Dean was standing in the kitchen doorway, in the same gray sweatpants he went to sleep in and a black tee shirt, and Cas was standing just behind him. Sam was starting to feel a little underdressed in his red flannel sleep pants.

"I'm hungry," Balthazar explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. Which it kinda was. Why else would the angel be cracking eggs over at the stove?

"Have I missed anything?" Mo asked quietly. Also, fully dressed. Sam was tempted to sneak past Dean and go find a shirt somewhere.

"We have located the correct soul. Michael is reconstructing her body as we speak," Cas explained. Reconstructing her body? Did that mean Cas reconstructed Dean's body when he raised him from perdition? (Sam was never gonna let Dean live that one down. _Never_.)

"It took you a whole month just to find 'em?" Dean asked.

"We were met with a riot. Order had to be restored before we could resume our search."

"Isn't Hell always chaotic?" Four pairs of eyes turned to Sam, and he fidgeted a bit under the combined weight and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Okay, so he was the only one who hadn't been fully introduced to Hell. Good to know.

"There is some order to our chaos. I imagine having two powerful angels in Hell upset a few of the demons, especially the ones already angry at Crowley?" Mo looked away from Sam to glance at Cas, who so far was the only angel that met the demon's eyes without glaring and spoke easily with him.

"You are correct. They were easy to defeat, but the sheer number took some time to get through. Michael and the vessel should arrive any moment, and they will both be very weak." Sam nodded absently at the news, because it made sense. Cas was looking a little worn down as well, and he didn't even have to reconstruct a body this time.

"Which soul was it?" Mo asked. Cas's head tilted at that, and Sam watched as his expression slowly evened out.

"Gabriel's grace is inside the soul of Emma Motley." No, it couldn't be the same one, could it? Recognition was written all over Mo's face, so did he know her?

"Emmaline Grace Motley?" Sam's eyes flickered to Dean as he asked, but Dean was looking at Cas as if trying to figure out if he was hearing things. So Dean did recognize the name. Cas glanced at Dean before setting his gaze on Sam.

"Yes."

**EMMA**

It was quiet, except for the distant screams. Whatever. Emma was gonna enjoy it while she could. Her torturer disappeared a few minutes ago, right in the middle of amputation, but Emma wasn't gonna beg him to come back. She took a moment to assess her body and see what was what. A thick chain was wrapped around her neck with another one around her stomach, somewhere in the bellybutton area, to keep her secured to the upright table. Both of her legs were gone, after being sawed off in little increments, and so was her left arm. Her right arm was stretched above her head, and a hook going through her wrist kept her from moving it. Lovely.

"Ah, Emma, how are things?" She huffed and slowly opened her eyes. She'd know that voice anywhere; it was the voice that promised her that her little sister would live a long and healthy life, and all she had to do was give up her soul.

"Crowley, baby, it's been a while. Too busy to come say hello these days? Oh, and you brought friends! Do they get off on chopping people up too?" The two men standing behind the King of Hell exchanged a glance before turning back to look at her. Once upon a time, Emma might have felt a little embarrassed about being so exposed in front of someone that she wasn't planning on sleeping with. Seeing as how she only has one remaining limb, however, modesty really isn't an issue. Hasn't been an issue at all since she's been naked for _centuries_. Still, they are pretty. Both tall and strong looking, with thick black hair and pretty eyes.

"They've come to ask a few questions, and I do apologize for neglecting you. Sources tell me that Meg has been keeping you company in my absence," Crowley said with a slow smile. Emma rolled her eyes with a huff and looked at the newcomers.

"Ask away." The younger looking one stepped forward while the other one just continued to look at her.

"How long have you been here?" His soft voice kind of reminded her of Mo; she's missed Mo these past few decades.

"A little over two hundred years." Two centuries on the rack. It wasn't a record breaker, but Emma was pretty proud of herself. The man nodded, almost absently, and walked closer to her. The second man was still standing in the same spot, next to Crowley.

"That's very impressive. You were a hunter?" Emma followed his eyes and looked down at her right ribcage. Huh, with all the dismemberment and those few times being burned alive, she's almost forgotten the tattoos on her ribcage. The dark swirling mass takes up her ribcage from armpit to the top of her thigh, and there's barely even a glimpse of bare flesh under all the dark ink. There's all kinds of symbols mixed in, all for protection and picked up from all over the place.

"Yeah, I was. Protection symbols, anti-detection, anti-possession, anti-cursing, the works. Ink was mixed with holy water and the blood of a virgin. Don't worry, no virgins were killed for my kickass artwork. Oh, and don't forget the devil's traps…Well, trap." Emma twisted her right hand around to show her scarred palm, which had a deep devil's trap carved into it.

"My boys hated those," Crowley said with an air of amusement.

"Explains why they keep chopping my hands off then," Emma shrugged. Carving into her palms had been painful, but it was effective. As long as she was touching a demon, it couldn't smoke out while she exorcised. Rigging one up took too much time sometimes.

"Something is hiding in a soul down here, and we have been searching for it." So many years ago, there was a bright light. It was so bright that it burned, but it had been so beautiful.

"The light." Hazel eyes met hers as the man slowly nodded, and Emma sucked in a breath. "What do you need?"

"I just need to search your soul. It will be painful, but brief."

"I'm in Hell. Pain is a given. Do whatever you need, sweetheart, I ain't going nowhere." The man's lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped directly in front of her, and Emma looked down to meet his eyes. It was nice to look down at someone for a change. Especially someone who would definitely be taller than her if she wasn't chained to a vertical table. The man was wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a plain black tee shirt. Not Hell's usual attire, which was usually either business suits or nudity.

"Try to hold still. It'll be less painful that way." A big hand gripped her hip just as the other one plunged into her stomach. It wasn't the first time a hand ripped its way into her torso, but he wasn't going for internal organs. No, he was going _past_ that somehow. He was actually rooting around her soul, and she was _burning_. Her lungs caught fire as she screamed against the pain and forced her muscles to lock in place. After what felt like another two centuries, the man pulled his hand free. Emma let her legless body relax, and her chin dipped forward as she looked down at the man who just spent time poking at her mushy bits.

"It's you." Emma couldn't read the look in his dark hazel eyes. He was still gripping her left hip, his hand cool compared to the heat in the room, and just staring up at her.

"Should've known it'd be you, Emma. Resistant little Emma. Mo will be so proud." Emma tore her eyes away from the man to look at Crowley. He looked a little proud himself, which was kinda terrifying.

"Did I win a chicken dinner?" Crowley smiled, and the man at his side tilted his head in confusion. Her humor was lost on people down here. It was so unfair.

"How did you say yes? How did he have the time to ask for permission?" the man asked her. Yeah, this was all going over her head. The hand that was just plundering her soulful depths raised to cup her cheek, and she almost pressed into the cool feeling. She missed the demons that liked keeping the torture chambers icy; she preferred that to the heat and the fires. "May I?"

"Will this hurt too?" she asked with a quirk of her lips. Not that it mattered. She was a torso with one arm; what was a little more pain?

"No, this won't hurt. I would just like to see."

"Have at it." Emma felt a finger rubbing against her temple and then everything went dark.

**.xXx.**

_I had the weirdest dream last night. One minute I'm running from the pissed off ghost that took forever to take out last night, and the next I run into a wall of light. Yeah, I know that light isn't something that can be run into, but dreams are weird like that. Wanna know how it gets even weirder? The light started talking! At least, I think it talked. I got the feeling that it was trying to talk. Whatever the light was, it needed my help. It was dying, and I had to save it. So you know how you're supposed to walk towards the light and let it in? I did exactly that. I'm not a dream expert or anything, but I think my subconscious is freaking out about my impending death. Four days and counting._

**.xXx.**

"He came to you in a dream, and you said yes." Emma was still trying to blink away the fuzzy memory. Now that she'd been shown the memory, it all came rushing back. A routine salt and burn had gone sideways, and she spent two hours running all through a house trying to find a locket with some hair in it. Once the damned ghost was finally put to rest, Emma all but passed out in the back of her van. There'd been a storm outside that night, and the rain had been falling so heavy that she had to park on the side of some back road and wait it out. Normally she was paranoid about just sitting on the side of the road, but she'd been freakin' exhausted that night. There was one good thing to be said about hard hunts. She always managed to get the deepest kinds of sleep afterwards.

"What'd I say yes to, exactly?" Crowley and the silent guy were still staring at her, both in confusion this time, and the other man was looking up at her in awe. And confusion. Everyone is confused, including her.

"For an angel to enter a vessel, they must be given permission. My brother was dying and needed somewhere to hide, and you sheltered him." Whoa…angels? Permission? Shelter?

"You sayin' there's an angel hiding out in my soul somewhere?"

"Yes."

"Well, he picked the wrong soul." The man nodded a bit at that, absently again, but he kept his hands on her hip and cheek.

"Yes, he is still very weak."

"This angel have a name?"

"Gabriel." Emma almost felt like puking. An archangel had been hiding out in her soul? The poor bastard. He came to her for help, and she drug him into Hell right along with her. In her defense, she didn't know that her dream was actually real.

"Archangel Gabriel? And who are you?"

"My name is Michael." Another one? Emma looked away from the _archangel_ that was still touching her to meet Crowley's eyes.

"This isn't some special kind of torture is it? Because if it is, I'd like to go back to being ripped to shreds."

"All true. It's your lucky day, Gracie." The angel, Michael, was still looking up at her with those dark pretty eyes.

"What happens next?" They had to get the angel inside of her out, right?

"I will carry your soul out and reconstruct your body. Once we both have had time to rest and recover, I will remove Gabriel's grace and return it to his previous vessel." Emma heard the words, but she was having problems understanding them. She understood the individual words just fine, but she was having issues putting them all together. She looked past Michael to Crowley, who raised a brow at her blank-faced stare.

"You're leaving Hell for good. Your soul will be all yours once again, without turning into a demon, and your little sister will not be harmed since you paid your end of the bargain," Crowley helpfully explained.

"But I don't have a body. It was burned."

"It will be more difficult, but it can be done," Michael said quietly. What was left of Emma's body shuddered, and she felt cold tears on her heated cheeks. If this all turned out to be fake, she really was going to break. Getting out of Hell…no more torture, no more blinding pain. Crowley snapped his fingers, and the hook in Emma's wrist and the chains wrapped around her body disappeared. Her feet hit the ground, because she had _legs_, and the strong hand on her hip kept her upright. A thumb brushed across the swell of her cheek, but the tears didn't slow.

"Castiel, return to Dean and tell them we'll be returning shortly. Crowley, you should probably leave."

"See you around, Gracie." Crowley was gone in the blink of an eye, and Emma could have sworn she heard feathers rustling as the other man left. It was just her and Michael now, who was still just looking down at her.

"Are you ready?" Michael's voice was so quiet but still drowned out the sounds of screaming.

"Ready to leave Hell? You bet your sweet angelic ass I'm ready." The archangel's smile was blinding, or that could've been the light that was slowly filling the room. The hand on her hip was white hot now, but she could barely feel the pain. The light was just too _beautiful_.

**SAM**

"I can't believe it's Emma," Sam said quietly. He'd finally gotten away long enough to grab a tee shirt, but they were all still sitting in the kitchen. Sam, Dean, and Mo were the only ones actually sitting at the table though. Cas was leaning against a counter, and Balthazar was standing at the stove and eating scrambled eggs out of the pan.

"You knew her?" Mo asked.

"Met her on a job once." Met her on a job and was there after she died. Sam's read her journal, has been reading her trunk of books, and even has a giant bag of her clothes stuffed in his closet. What? He keeps forgetting to take them to Goodwill.

"I'm not surprised it's Emma. She was the only soul we interrogated about the light that didn't try to bargain her way out of the Pit, and she's suffered the rack for two hundred years." Mo really did sound impressed.

"Hard to believe that little thing spent two hundred years on the rack," Dean huffed. He wasn't meeting anyone's eyes, and Sam had a feeling he knew why. Talking about pits and the rack can't be easy for him.

"She was missing both legs and an arm when we found her but still conversed easily," Cas offered up.

"Missing?"

"Amputation is a personal favorite of many demons," Mo explained while avoiding Sam's eyes. Not that he needed to, because Sam was looking across the table at his brother. Dean never went into detail about the torture he suffered in Hell. Did some demon bastard chop him into bits?

"How terribly morbid," Balthazar drawled before turning back to cook a few more eggs.

"How long is it gonna take them to get back, anyway?" Dean asked and twisted around in his chair to stare at Cas. Yeah, stare, because just taking a quick look is very rare for those two.

"Reconstructing a human body is very difficult, and Michael is reconstructing a body from ash. It will take time."

**EMMA**

Emma sucked in a painful breath and forced her eyes open. The sky above her was dark and endless, and the grass under her naked skin was cold and itchy. She bolted upright and immediately started running her hands over her body. Hair completely attached to her scalp and down to her shoulders, eyes, nose, mouth. Her tongue ran over all her teeth. Her legs were whole, and there weren't any gaps in her torso. She had a _body_ that wasn't being ripped apart, and the air she was breathing in didn't taste like smoke and sulfur. Holy shit, she was _**alive**_.

"I'm alive!" she shouted up at the sky. She was exhausted and really wanted a nap, but her extreme joy was giving her an adrenaline rush.

"We should go." Soft voice, dark hair, and pretty eyes. Michael. The archangel was standing in front of her and extending a hand, to help her stand up. She placed her scarred palm against his and let the angel pull her to her feet. Michael swayed a bit as he let her go, and she noticed that he was looking a little tired himself.

"You okay?"

"I didn't realize creating a human body would be so…difficult. I just need to rest." Right, he created her body because it was burned to ash. Oh, wow. She glanced down at her very naked body and slowly raised her arms to cover her breasts. "I can't expend the energy to get clothes, but I can offer this."

"No, wait, you don't have to—" The man passed over his plain black tee shirt, and Emma quirked a nervous smile as she pulled it over her head. "Thanks."

"It's the least I could do. We need to leave now," he said and held his hand out to her again. Emma went to shift her weight to a different foot and felt her knees give out. If Michael hadn't swooped in to catch her, knight in shining armor style, she would've been a heap of skin and bones on the ground.

"Huh, I guess I have to get used to having legs again. And hands." Legs and hands were normally the first to go.

"Just hold on tightly." Emma looped her arms around his shoulders and laced her fingers together behind his neck.

"Carry me away, angel boy."

**SAM**

The lights in the kitchen began to flicker, and Sam tensed up as the air in the room became heavier. He listened to the sounds of Balthazar placing the pan back on the stove and Dean's chair creaking as he shifted, and then Michael was in the room. His presence seemed to fill the entire doorway, even as he dropped to one knee. He was shirtless and holding a body in his arms; a body that was bare except for a black shirt. Wide brown eyes swept across the kitchen, but she didn't stop on any one person. Sam didn't even know if she recognized him and Dean. Michael slowly got to his feet, and his face was drawn and pale as he looked at them.

"We both need to rest," Michael said quietly. Dean and Sam were frozen in their seats, and the two angels were quiet. Mo swiftly got to his feet and carefully walked over to the archangel. The demon ran his fingers through Emma's brown hair as he leaned down to brush his lips across her forehead.

"Welcome back, little love," he whispered.

"A little birdy told me you weren't having any fun, and I couldn't have that. I'm gonna need some shut-eye before we hit the town though." Emma's voice was the same as Sam remembered, light and teasing.

"Of course, love. Michael, I'll show you to a room." The archangel followed after the demon, and Sam turned to look at his brother.

"Think she remembers us?" he asked. Dean was still looking at where Michael was standing a moment ago.

"Of course she doesn't. She just spent two _centuries_ being tortured repeatedly. I'm surprised she even knows her own name. Imbeciles," Balthazar grumbled as he stalked out of the room.

"He's not wrong. It is not uncommon to forget an entire life after being in Hell." It sounded so simple when stated in Cas's gruff voice, and Sam drummed his fingers on the table top. Two centuries in Hell being tortured; Sam couldn't even begin to imagine it.

"I'm going to sleep. Wake me up if anything else happens." Sam left the room before Dean or Cas could say anything, and he all but collapsed into his messy bed. When he left it an hour ago, he just wanted something to drink. He stretched his legs out and turned his head, and he opened his eyes to see the journal on his bedside table. Emma's journal. Maybe, when she was feeling better, he could help her remember her life.

* * *

**Finis: **Hmm, where to start? Emma is out of Hell! That's a reason to celebrate, I think. Got pulled out by Michael, and she accidentally smuggled Gabriel into Hell with her. It'll be a few chapters before Gabriel makes an actual appearance, but at least he isn't dead. I don't think there's anything I really need to clarify, but if anyone has any questions, I'd love to answer them! Or if you just want to talk Supernatural, I'm always up for that too.


	5. Chapter 5

**TIB: **I really like this chapter. I know I'm bias since I'm the writer and everything, but I think it has the right balance between humor and crushing sadness. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five  
****Big Crocodile Tears**

* * *

**SAM**

Sam froze in the kitchen doorway with one hand tangled in his hair and the other scratching at his stomach. Emma was standing in front of one of the cabinets, still dressed only in Michael's black tee shirt. The morning sunlight pouring out of the window over the kitchen sink lit her up and made her messy hair look like a thorny halo. She wasn't moving; she was just looking up into the cabinet with her hands dangling by her sides. It was the cabinet with random bits of food, like cereal and granola bars.

"Emma?" Her shoulders shifted under the loose fabric, but she didn't turn to look at him.

"I can't remember…do I like blueberry poptarts? Or the chocolate ones? Do I even like poptarts at all?" Her voice was quiet and even, but her hands were starting to shake. Balthazar was surprised she could remember her own name, so why would she be able to remember things like her favorite breakfast food?

"I think you'll like the chocolate ones," he said quietly. She mentioned chocolate in her journal, a lot, so Sam was gonna go out on a limb. A slim, slightly shaking, hand reached up to the grab the chocolate poptarts. When she finally turned around to face him, her eyes were guarded and she was holding the foiled packet close to her chest.

"I had to pee."

"What?" One day, Sam was going to wake up and make it thirty minutes without being thoroughly confused.

"I woke up because I had to pee. There's no peeing in Hell, or hunger. It took me a minute to realize that the dull pain was my bladder and stomach. I feel like an idiot," she grumbled.

"You just need to take time to adjust." He tried to smile and hoped that it came off as reassuring. It must have worked, because Emma shakily smiled back and then looked down at her poptarts. Her brow wrinkled and then she was looking at him again. She took a few steps forward, tipped her head back to look him straight in the eyes, and held out a hand.

"Emma Motley," she said with a stronger smile. Sam thought about that night in the graveyard, when she had formally introduced herself. She'd been wearing baggy blue shorts and had dirt smeared on one cheek. He took the much smaller hand in his own and gave it a gentle shake.

"Sam Winchester." Her nose twitched as her eyes narrowed, and she looked a mixture of confused and frustrated.

"The name kinda tickles, but I can't…I can't remember."

"After you eat, I might have something that can help you." Brown eyes stared at him for a moment longer before she shrugged and finally ripped open the poptarts. Either this would work, or it would go horribly wrong.

**EMMA**

The water pressure in this place was absolutely amazing. The closest thing Emma has had to a bath in years is getting drowned in her own blood, and she has a feeling that doesn't really count. Mainly because blood is not all that great at getting the dirt out of her pores. She doesn't even care that the shampoo and body wash is all manly, because she can't remember the last time she felt this clean. The water is hot and soft, and she's safe. No one is coming to strip her skin off or tear off her limbs, and she ate poptarts. She ate chocolaty goodness and drank coffee, and she peed again and is now in a very awesome shower. The little things in life.

Getting out of the shower wasn't something that she wanted to do, but her skin was getting wrinkly and the water was at that lukewarm stage right before it goes to freezing cold. Remembering things like that was easy, but she was still struggling to remember the details of her own life. After wrapping a towel around her head, she hurriedly dried off the rest of her body and then glanced into the mirror. Her body was the same as she remembered it, she thinks. She still has her giant network of protection tattoos and scars, and she can remember where some of them came from. Others are a bit fuzzy. She has freckles and a mole on her left shoulder.

She wrapped a towel around her body and poked her head out of the bathroom door. She was in Sam's bathroom, which was in Sam's bedroom. Sure enough, the really tall dude was sitting on the massive bed with a basket of clothes next to him. The massive bed thing wasn't surprising, because the guy would need a bed that big unless he always wanted his feet to hang off. The big guy was being really nice to her, and he kept looking at her with those puppy eyes. She had a serious urge to pet his beautiful hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay. First though, she wanted to know why he had so many girl clothes.

"You just had all these laying around?" She held the big fluffy towel closer to her as her other hand poked inside of the basket, and she watched as broad shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug.

"I keep forgetting to take them to Goodwill. They should fit you," he said with a small smile. No, with a secretive smile. What's he hiding? Emma picked up a pair of dark colored panties and a matching bra, and she had to snort back a laugh. The boyshorts and bra had a Ouija board design, and that was just…hilarious.

"At least she had good taste. Cover your eyes and no peeking." Sam made a show of covering his eyes and then peeking between his fingers, and he smiled as his fingers closed and he started humming. Emma just rolled her eyes and let the towel fall. Modesty was still a new thing, especially since she woke up in nothing but a thin tee shirt that barely covered her ass. She quickly slipped on the underwear and then rooted around for some actual clothes. She yanked on a pair of loose whitewashed denim shorts and a soft green tee shirt that said _**SMASH**_ across the chest.

"Can I look now?"

"Yeah, I'm decent." She bent over to unwrap the towel on her head and gave her hair one last scrub before straightening up. Sam was waiting with a brush, and Emma took it with a small smile. "Do you know anything about people getting out of the Pit?"

"A little. Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I didn't have this before Hell." She'd lifted her tee shirt and pulled down her shorts just enough to show the hand-shaped burn on her left hip, and she watched as Sam's eyes narrowed and then widened.

"It's where Michael pulled you out," he said quietly. So, burned imprints were normal. Good to know. It was just another mark on her body, one of many.

"Huh."

"Cas said that you would need to rest, and you can stay in here for the day. And, uh, I think you should read this." He reached behind him to grab something, and Emma admired the way his tee shirt tightened across his chest and stomach as he twisted around. She finally pulled her gaze away when he held out a leather book, and Emma carefully took it in her scarred palms. It was a light brown, almost cream colored, and tied together with lime green shoelaces.

"I was wearing these the day my mom died." The thought hit her, right between the eyes, as she ran her fingers over the worn material. "This is mine?"

"Any hunter worth their salt has a journal, and you're a damned good hunter." Emma looked over at Sam as her fingers tightened around the journal, and she could feel her heart pounding.

"My stepdad bought it for me for Christmas, but I never wrote in it because I was too old for a stupid diary. When I snuck back into the house after the cops were gone, to grab some clothes, I grabbed this too. Why can I remember that when I can't remember my stepdad's name?" Large hands covered hers where she was gripping the journal with white knuckles, and Emma wished for a moment that she could disappear inside of Sam's pretty hazel eyes and hide forever.

"Just read it. I think it'll help you remember everything." Emma nodded and watched as Sam left the room. Once he was gone, she moved the basket of clothes onto the floor and crawled up the bed. With her back propped up against the headboard and cushioned by a mound of pillows, she began to read. The very first page was blank except for a single line.

_Emma Motley's Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101_

She laughed. She knew, instinctively, that this wasn't the original first page. This was added later on, after the anger was burned out and replaced with a desire to just _help_. She had been sitting on the roof of a bar in Vegas, drunk off her ass with loving bite marks still peppering her thighs, when she added the page. It made her laugh then too. This journal was her life; everything she'd done since becoming a hunter. It was a step to remembering who she was. It was a step.

**SAM**

"She's been up there all day," Dean huffed as he kneaded dough. Watching Dean make pizza from scratch was never going to get old. His brother is _nesting_. It's surreal, but good.

"She's reading her journal and trying to remember her life before Hell. I'm sure it's taking a lot out of her," Sam defended. Emma had looked so lost when little memories started creeping through; Sam just hoped he'd made the right decision in giving the journal to her so soon.

"Giving her the journal was a good idea. I imagine it must be very confusing not knowing your own past," Cas said quietly. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with the angel, and they were both watching Dean as he tossed pasta sauce and other various things onto his homemade pizza.

"You really read the whole thing?" Dean asked as he sprinkled…something.

"Yeah, and it's very thorough. It details all of her hunts and other personal information. Maybe, if she remembers the big things, the little things will come back too," Sam shrugged.

"Was there anything in there about her saying yes to Gabriel?" Dean asked.

"Michael said she granted permission in a dream," Cas added. Sam searched his memory of the journal, but he'd remember if Emma wrote about an archangel. But, if it was a dream…wait a minute.

"She did have a dream a few days before she died about letting the light in. Could that have been Gabriel?" Sam asked Cas. The angel looked contemplative as his head did that little tilt thing, and he looked down at his hands as he nodded slowly.

"I believe that is possible."

"Ah, my friends, I'm afraid I must depart for a few days. Crowley has requested my help, but I should return soon." Sam looked up just in time to see Mo standing in the kitchen before he disappeared completely, and he blinked at the abruptness.

"Okay, now the house is demon free. Are the angels still sleeping?" The pizza was in the oven now, and Dean leaned back against the counter.

"Michael and Balthazar are gathering their strength, yes." Simple and to the point.

"Awesome." Yeah, they were definitely a match made in heaven.

**EMMA**

_Rule number one in hunting: don't get dead. Rule number seventeen in hunting: never trust a demon. Well, I'm breaking both of those. Not that I want to. I'm not selfless, and I can admit that I really don't want to die. I want to live until I'm so old that I fart baby powder, but I guess that isn't in the cards for any hunter. Whatever. It's a done deal. Pardon the pun. _

_It's Krissy. I've noticed that something was off the past few times I've dropped by; she kept getting headaches and didn't have a lot of energy. It was a brain tumor, cancerous. The doctors were going to operate, but the chances of her living until the end of the week was below one percent. My baby sister was going to die, so I did what I had to do. I went to see her first though. I waited until visiting hours were long over and she was doped to the gills, but I had to see her. Tomorrow, they're going to shave off all her pretty hair. It's so soft and straight, like Mom's was. And she was so little. I was scared I was gonna break her hand as I held it. _

_I made a deal with the devil. Or, well, a crossroads demon. In most cases, people usually get at least ten years before their soul is dragged to Hell. Me? I'm only getting a year. The smug little bastard said it was because I keep killing all his friends. Who would've thought that pissing off demons would come back to bite me in the ass? Not that it matters, because I said yes. He could've taken me right then and there as long as Krissy was okay. It's only been an hour since I bargained away my soul, but I feel okay. I've always known that I wasn't going to die peacefully in my sleep. It's happening a little sooner than I thought, but the ending is still pretty much the same. At least now I'm dying for something…for Krissy. _

**SAM**

"I'm gonna go check on Emma," Sam said as he slowly got up from the kitchen table.

"Take her some pizza. She's probably hungry."

"_There's no peeing in Hell, or hunger."_ It was possible that she forgot that she was supposed to eat now. Sam put two big slices on a plate and grabbed a bottle of water before leaving the kitchen; the tension in the air from all the soulful eye sex was starting to get a little ridiculous. Maybe, if everyone survives this Apocalypse, Sam will celebrate by locking those two in a closet. Naked. That should drive the point home.

"Hey, Emma, I brought pizza." Sam stood still as he nudged the door closed behind him and watery brown eyes looked over at him. Emma was sitting cross-legged on his bed with her journal in her lap, and her fingers were touching the pictures at the back.

"I died for her, but I forgot her name. How could I ever forget Krissy's name?" Sam placed the pizza and water bottle on his nightstand and carefully sat down next to Emma. She was still crying, big crocodile tears, and just staring at him. Should he say something? What's the right way to comfort someone who just returned from Hell and was remembering her whole life after being tortured for centuries? There's no handbook for this one.

"You never forgot about her, did you? You still remembered your little sister?" Her head slowly nodded as she looked at him, but the tears didn't slow.

"I knew that I died for her and that I loved her, but I forgot her name. I was starting to forget what she looked like. If you hadn't given this to me, I probably wouldn't have—Thank you!" Soft but strong arms wrapped around his neck, and Sam hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. He could feel hot tears dropping onto his neck, and he just went with his gut instinct. He pulled on her until she was in his lap and tightened his arms, and he made quiet little sounds in the back of his throat as the floodgates opened. The silent tears turned into gut wrenching sobs as she broke down, and Sam just rocked her as she let it all out.

By the time Emma stopped crying, Sam's ass was numb and the left shoulder of his shirt was soaked. Emma pulled back and pushed the heel of her hands against her eyes, and Sam used the bottom of his shirt to wipe her face. So what if the mess was a mixture of tears and snot? Possibly a little saliva. She looked at him with red eyes and an even redder nose, and she was an ugly crier. When Sam noticed the tear marks on a few pages of her journal, he always pictured the small hunter crying with quiet dignity. Kind of like how Dean cried. Nope, Emma was a messy crier and Sam was glad she was. Emma Motley was just a girl, who got snotty when she cried. Emma wrote about them in her journal, and all he could think about as he looked at her tired face was a line from that entry. _I met the Winchesters, and they're just men._

"Sorry." Her voice was a little rough from all the sobbing, and Sam pushed some of the hair clinging to her cheek back behind her ear.

"Don't be." She looked down at her lap, where Sam had a hand braced against her thigh. It was her left leg, the one that had a scar running from her hip to her knee. (The top of the scar was now covered by a handprint.)

"I remember getting it now," Emma whispered. Her fingers danced over and between where his were splayed and then on down to trace the rest of the scar. It was about as thick as one of his fingers and a shiny white, clearly years old.

"Grindylow, on your first standalone hunt. You stitched yourself up with pink thread," Sam teased. Emma snorted a laugh and looked up at him as her hand covered his.

"Did you read the whole thing?" She didn't look mad or upset, just curious.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell Dean I was your favorite." Brown eyes rolled as she ducked down to lay her head on a dry part of his chest, and he felt her free hand curling around his shirt. Her other hand was still resting on top of his.

"I feel really naked now, like more than I did when I was just wearing a towel earlier. Or an archangel's tee shirt. Why'd you keep it? How'd you get it in the first place?" Sam leaned back against the mound of pillows propped up against the headboard, and Emma stayed curled up on top of him.

"We went with Bobby to get your body, and I drove your van back. I might have snooped around. I found your journal in the glove box and read the first page, and it made me laugh. I felt really bad about laughing, because you were dead, but I liked it. I forgot about it for a while, dealing with the Apocalypse and everything. When it was over, I got the journal and your trunk out of the van. I started reading it when we were in Vegas celebrating, and I kept reading it while we built the house. It was just…different."

"My running commentary on every delicious thing I've ever eaten?"

"Among other things."

"And my clothes?"

"I really did keep forgetting to take them to Goodwill." She huffed against his chest and stretched her legs out, and she moved her hand up his arm to under his shirtsleeve. Her hand curled into a fist under the material, and Sam let both of his hands splay against her back.

"Alright, tell me everything I missed. And don't cheat me on the details. You read my entire journal, which details everything I've ever killed and about the florist I lost my virginity to, so you owe me some good stories."

Sam was stretched out on his bed with a recently revived hunter curled up on his torso, and it was surprisingly easy to talk. Sam loves Dean, more than anyone else in the world, but his big brother isn't the best with heart-to-hearts. Which Sam doesn't understand, because Dean has the biggest heart he's ever seen. (That gruff attitude isn't fooling anyone.) The point is, Sam's never really had a chance to just get everything off his chest. About Azazel, Mom, Dad, Dean, Jessica, Ruby, the demon blood, Lucifer, starting the Apocalypse…it's all just been locked up inside, apparently waiting to come out. Emma kept her head on his chest and let him talk. They each ate a slice of pizza and shared the water bottle, and Sam kept talking. He told her everything, and she just listened.

If at some point, after they sluggishly changed into pajamas and burrowed under the blankets, Emma started twirling and braiding Sam's hair between her fingers while he talked himself hoarse…well, that was just one more secret between them.

**EMMA**

"Sammy! We can't find—Oh, there you are. Uh, good morning?" Emma groaned when the light was flipped on, and she pulled the blanket over her head. The move accidentally caused her to punch Sam's chin, but he just grunted and crossed his arms over her back. The big guy made a surprisingly good pillow.

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam's voice was sleep rough, and his chest rumbled a bit under her cheek.

"I couldn't find Emma, and we have a case."

"Can I go?" Emma asked as her head popped out of the blankets. Sam finally opened his eyes as he looked at her, and Emma shrugged. What? She spent two centuries roasting; she kinda missed being the one to put a whooping on someone.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. You just got back, and an angel is riding your soul. Don't worry, Cas will be here, since the other two feathered dicks are _sleeping_." Emma blinked at his tone but didn't say anything. After listening to Sam's story about how the Apocalypse came to be, she can understand the hatred. Really. She'd be pissed too.

"Where's Mo?" Sam was also nice enough to tell her about the issues happening now, like how two ancient assholes are out to free Lucifer and cause Hell on Earth. She's really proud of Mo for standing with the good guys. She likes the pretty demon.

"Doing something for Crowley."

"I don't know if I should be proud that the demon I sold my soul to became the King of Hell or disgusted," Emma murmured to herself. A tiny part of her was a little worried about Mo, because demons aren't exactly trustworthy, but the dude is ancient.

"Disgusted with a touch of pride?" Sam offered. Large hands gripped her hips and lifted her into the air, and Emma fought the urge to pout as Sam set her down on the floor. What was she? A big doll? She curled her toes into the carpet and smiled when she felt them pop, and her back popped after she lifted her hands into the air and bent back a little.

"You too, huh?"

"Me too what?" Emma asked with her hands still reaching for the ceiling. Sam was standing next to her now, and he poked her exposed hip. Right where Dean was looking. All the stretching made her tank top ride up, and she looked down at the burn mark. "Oh yeah, my little Hell souvenir. I feel like I've been branded. Do you feel like you've been branded?"

"No." It was said swiftly with conviction, but he's still rubbing his arm.

"If you say so, Deano. So, Cas is on grace babysitting duty?" Sam was shuffling around in the bathroom, and Emma leaned back against the bed as she looked Dean over. He was dressed and ready to start the day.

"Someone has to make sure you stay in one piece." Oh, that is definitely a suggestive grin. Hell games. There's a calculating look in his eyes, like he's waiting for her to break. Well, she already did that. Kind of. Sam's tee shirt will never be the same.

"Where's the fun in that? It's not a party until something pops off," she grinned right back. Dean just nodded at her like she'd passed some big test, and Emma gave herself a mental pat on the back. She's very sure, at some point, that she's going to go stark raving mad. Someone is gonna do something, and a memory will get triggered, and she'll go batshit. She'll face that inevitability when it comes.

"What kind of job? Demons?" Sam asked. He was pulling a tee shirt on, and Emma really couldn't help staring. Geeze, what were these boys eating?

"Nah, witches in Michigan. Something small," Dean shrugged.

"I hate witches," Emma grumbled and moved to fully sit on the bed.

"That's why you have the protection symbols, right? Anti-witchcraft?" Sam was packing a bag now, and Dean walked farther into the room so he could stand next to the bed.

"Yup. Getting them is a bitch, but it's worth it. I don't know why most hunters don't get them. Yeah, it's got a little hoodoo-voodoo thing going on, but it keeps me from getting hexed. Also, demons can't toss me around whenever they want. I can't be found either," Emma said with a proud smile. Yeah, it was extremely painful, but so worth it.

"How can we get this?" Dean asked.

"Well, first, you find someone willing to do it. Then you ask yourself, is the pain worth it? If you decide yes, you present a gift and a little bit of blood. The rest is just…pain."

"What kind of pain?" Emma looked Dean right in the eye, which was no hardship because big brother had some seriously pretty eyes, and then lifted her tank top. She twisted herself around and kept the important bits covered, and Dean's gaze on her tattooed ribcage almost felt like a physical touch.

"The design varies from person to person and is discovered by a small dose of electricity. Opens up the soul for the doctor to see, or something. The skin is burned in purification and healed in the blood of the lamb, which actually hurts almost as much as the burning. Once it's all healed up, only takes a few minutes, the individual symbols are carved into the flesh. Healed with the blood of a raven. Scrubbed smooth with pure silver. Then the tattooing begins. Once it starts, it doesn't stop until it's finished."

"Oh, is that all?" Emma glared over at Dean and softly patted her side. Yeah, it hurt like a bitch and was a crazy thing to go through.

"I'm protected from pretty much everything. Most magic can't touch me. In our line of work, I'd say that's pretty important."

"She has a point, Dean."

"You want to go get tattoos from a witch doctor?" Emma turned to look at Sam, who was now looking at Dean. It looked like they were having an entire conversation with their eyes.

"It couldn't hurt."

"You protected against angels?" Dean was looking right at her now, and Emma scrubbed a hand through her messy hair.

"Nope. Never had a reason to be."

"One of the guys looking to spring Lucifer, Beelz, is still an angel. He could always track us using you, so we'll go see your witch doctor as soon as we get back."

"Aye, aye, cap'n!" Emma snapped off a salute and did her best not to laugh. Normally she wouldn't even smile, but keeping a straight face was too hard when Dean was glaring like that. Sam suddenly blocked her vision, and she smiled up at the overly tall hunter.

"Go into town and buy a few things for yourself, and take Cas. You can pick out a guest room or stay in here," Sam rattled off. He pressed a slim wallet and keys that felt like home into her scarred hands.

"Go kill a witch. I'll still be here when you get back," Emma smiled. Sam ruffled her hair, smiled at her lukewarm glare, and left with Dean. Emma enjoyed the feeling of sitting on a soft mattress for another minute and then made her way into the shower. She was going to enjoy that water pressure one more time before getting ready to face the day.

**SAM**

"So…Emma, huh?" Sam looked away from the book he'd been reading, which he got from Emma's trunk, and looked over at his brother.

"What about her?" Dean glanced away from the road long enough to smile at him and do something with his eyebrows that made Sam flush. Flush, not blush. It's an important distinction.

"Oh, come on, dude. You two were wrapped up like a pretzel this morning." Okay, maybe he was blushing.

"It wasn't like that, Dean. Two people can share a bed without it being sexual. She just got out of Hell."

"Exactly, that's my point! Can you think of a better way to celebrate?"

"I worry about you, I really do."

"You're telling me you two didn't do anything?" Sam rolled his eyes at the question and tried to think of how to explain it. He didn't feel anything sexual towards Emma, even though he could easily admit that she was attractive.

"I guess we just had an understanding. We talked, and we went to sleep." He almost wanted to call her a friend, but was that right? He barely knew her outside of a journal, but that journal pretty much told him everything he needed to know about her. Her favorite color was green, she had an abnormal love of chocolate, she liked listening to blues when she took bubble baths, and she lost her virginity to a florist that turned out to be a wood nymph.

"Alright, if you say so."

"Do you really want to talk sex right now, Dean? Really?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam just smiled and opened his book again. "Sam? Sammy!"

**EMMA**

"I know you're all comatose while you gather your strength for this grace transfer thingy, so this is probably really cowardly or whatever…Ugh, how are you so pretty? You look like a statue." Okay, so, Emma felt a little creepy just sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the archangel sleep. At least, she thinks he's asleep. He's not really moving. He's just lying on his back, stiff as a board, with his hands resting on his bare stomach. Kinda reminds her of a vampire pose. No, wait, that's arms over the chest. Whatever. Thin fingers scrubbed through her hair as she tried to gather her scattered thoughts, and she sighed as her mind came up blank.

"Emma?" She jumped, a little guiltily, and turned wide eyes to the doorway behind her. The other pretty angel, the one with blue eyes, was staring at her. Probably because she was the lunatic talking to a comatose archangel. Comatose archangel. What even is her life anymore?

"Hey, Cas, right?" He inclined his head, but there was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that suggested he didn't like the nickname. Interesting. "I was just checking on him, you know? Least I can do, since he dragged my ass out of Hell and everything."

"Michael is well. I estimate it will be another week before he wakes." The angel's face had softened a bit, but he still looked a little guarded. Completely understandable.

"Gotcha. So, I'm going to head into town and pick up a few things. Want to come with me?" His head tilted, and Emma did not find it adorable. From the way Sam told the story, Cas and Dean have a special bond thing going on that neither one has owned up to. Yet.

"You want my company?" He looked a little lost, and Emma gave up the fight. The confused angel was absolutely adorable, and Dean is an idiot. Who can resist those baby blues?

"I would love your company, Castiel." The angel's smile was barely there, a small thing that could easily be overlooked, but to Emma it was something…precious. "Come on, let's go shopping."

* * *

**Finis: **So much fun stuff is happening! Well, fun except for the random breakdowns, but even those can have some humor to them. I don't think there's anything big in this chapter that I wanted to talk about. Hmm…Well, I made it so that Emma reading her journal jogged her memory, because I'm too lazy to write about partial amnesia. Yep, that's about it. In the next chapter, Emma and Cas go shopping! Fun Fact: other possible chapter titles included—Soulful Eye Sex, Hell Games, and Comatose Archangel.

One quick question! I'm writing chapters ahead, so that I can try and update regularly, and I was curious what readers would think about another POV. Right now it's just Emma and Sam, but I've been debating the possibility of adding in another one. I'm not sure if three would be too much though. So, any thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

**TIB: **Mild gore warning for this one. Nothing too bad though, I promise.

* * *

**Chapter Six  
****Cue The Dramatic Sighing**

* * *

**SAM**

"Dean?" They were still on the road, and they would be for several more hours, so now was the perfect time for Sam to ask. Dean can't run away.

"What?" His big brother looked relaxed enough. As relaxed as he can be with a looming Apocalypse and psychotic murdering angels on the loose.

"Did you get chopped up in Hell?" No, wait, Sam meant to phrase that a little better. Less blunt. Dean didn't move at the question; his hands kept their light yet firm grip on the wheel, but the lack of movement is what gave him away. He was trying not to react.

"We're not talking about this. It was forever ago, Sam." Dean's gruff voice was the same as always, and Sam could almost convince himself that Dean really was okay. He heard Dean and Emma's little conversation while he was in the bathroom this morning. Something about staying in one piece and things popping off. Their voices had been too casual and light, with a tension just underneath. Plus, Sam could see it every time someone mentioned the Pit or the racks.

"You know you can talk to me about it, if you need to." And Sam really meant that. Whatever happened to Dean down there changed him, no matter how unaffected he tried to act. He just wanted to help his brother, but Dean was a stubborn jerk.

"Next we'll be braiding your hair," Dean huffed and glanced over at him with a smirk. Sam felt blood trying to climb into his cheeks as he thought about slim fingers in his hair, and he turned to look out the window. He'd try again later.

**EMMA**

Her van. _Her_ _**van**_. It really was like coming back home. Her mattress was still squeezed into the back, but it looked empty without her trunk of books and duffel bag. An old coconut scented air freshener and a shot glass from her Vegas trip was still dangling from the rearview mirror, and her ass fit perfectly into the little dip in the driver's seat. She was still running smoothly too, so Sam or someone must've been taking care of her. She couldn't help but to notice though that while she was riding high on euphoria, the angel in the passenger seat was tense and a little fidgety. He kept running his palms across his knees and flexing his jaw.

"You okay over there?" Blue eyes flashed to her before turning back to look at the scenery.

"Riding in a vehicle is very slow…and confining." Damn, the angel has a really rough voice. It worked for him though, and it wasn't sexy in the least. Nope. Not one little bit. (Seriously, anyone that can resist that voice coupled with those baby blues and adorable shyness, must have a will made out of something a lot tougher than iron. Adamantium, maybe?)

"Right, you're more use to the flying thing. You don't have to ride if you don't want to." She wanted to reach out and pat his shoulder or something, because she's a tactile person like that, but she doesn't want to invade the angelic being's personal space.

"I don't mind." Well, that settled that. The rest of the ride into town was quiet, and Emma took one look around at the one red-light town before shaking her head and continuing on. If her mental map was still right, which she was pretty sure it was, there was a mall around an hour away. West. A little further west. Knowing mall locations was a girl thing, and it was crucial knowledge. Sometimes, after a brutal hunt, a little retail therapy was needed. No shame in that.

Castiel, her angelic companion, gave another one of those head tilts as they drove out of town. Emma just shrugged and said they didn't have what she needed, and Castiel just accepted it. For a soldier of Heaven, who rebelled from Heaven and somehow got promoted for it, he was really quiet and trusting. After another ten minutes of silence, Emma decided to teach him some road trip games. The next sixty minutes were spent in a thrilling game of I-Spy, which Emma lost quite spectacularly. Castiel was really good at seeing the little details, and Emma couldn't help laughing every time he got a proud little smile when she gave up guessing. All in all, it wasn't the most awkward drive into town ever.

"Have you ever been to a mall?" They were walking across the parking lot now, and Emma had a feeling that they looked absolutely ridiculous. Castiel was wearing a suit and a trench coat, and the dude had some serious sex hair going on. Maybe she should try to smooth it down? Nah, it looked kind of hot. She, on the other hand, was in a pair of very old and worn out skinny jeans and the same green shirt from yesterday. Then there were the flipflops (because they were acceptable in all weather) and a plain gray jacket. Yeah, they definitely looked a little weird walking together.

"Not for the purpose of shopping," was the cryptic answer. What were some other reasons for being in a mall? Emma probably didn't want to know, so she didn't ask.

"Is that your only suit?" Castiel looked down at what he was wearing and then glanced over at her.

"Yes. I repair it when it is damaged." Emma couldn't imagine wearing the same thing every single day. Yeah, sure, she wears _basically_ the same thing every day, but there is some variety.

"You know humans wear a variety of clothes. Blending in could come in handy," Emma said as innocently as possible. She could feel the angel's eyes on her, but she didn't look over.

"You believe I should purchase more clothes?" He sounded truly curious and like he wanted to know her opinion, and Emma shrugged in nonchalance.

"I think it could help with blending in, which could help keep Dean and Sam safe." Those were the magic words, because Castiel got a determined look in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw.

"Then we shall go shopping."

**SAM**

"How does she seem to you?" Sam glanced away from the book he was reading, this one on the _angel_ Abaddon, and over at Dean.

"Who? Abaddon? Because I'm pretty sure she's going to kill us." Dean rolled his eyes and took another bite of his burger. Sam just glared across the table and mostly ignored the chicken salad at his elbow.

"Emma. Did she seem okay last night? Any nightmares?" Oh, Dean was actually trying to be nice. Better hold onto this while it lasted. Sam closed his eyes as he thought back to last night, and it seemed normal enough. They fell asleep after Sam finished talking, all curled up together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Okay, normal enough for their abnormal life.

"She moved around a lot, but no nightmares. Why do you ask?" Was Dean thinking about the nightmares he had after coming back from Hell? About the nightmares he probably still had about his time in the Pit?

"We need to keep our eye on her, make sure she's okay." Sam nodded solemnly at that and tried not to worry about the smaller hunter. Maybe they shouldn't have left her alone so soon. Cas was there, but did Cas know how to handle a hunter with PTSD from Hell? Well, a hunter other than Dean? "And are you serious about the tattoos?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You want voodoo tattoos?"

"I've read Emma's journal, remember? Those tattoos have saved her life more than once, and I would really like to not get thrown around by demons and witches."

"Okay, then I guess we'll get voodoo tattoos. You think they have pie here?"

**EMMA**

They spent _hours_ in the mall. Emma's feet are sore from all the running around, and how freaking amazing is that? She has feet, and they're mildly sore from walking around freely. She bought some more pants, since all she seems to have are shorts, and a few tee shirts. Also, she bought a lot of fruity smelling girl products. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, body spray…so many nice smelling things to help scrub out the olfactory memories of blood and sulfur. Getting her stuff was more routine than anything, even though it'd felt like forever since she'd done it. (Has it been almost two years? Or over two hundred?) No, the fun part was shopping for Castiel.

The angel was so new to everything, and he was completely oblivious to all the attention he got. Not that Emma blamed the salespeople. The angel was a confusing mixture of adorable and oh-so-fuckin'-hot, especially once the trench coat came off. Still, talking him into a few of the outfits was a little difficult. Getting a pair of better-fitting black slacks and a white button-up shirt that fit him was easy, since he was kind of used to those already anyway. He almost didn't want to try on the jeans she picked out, until she reminded him that Dean wore jeans and having a few pairs of denim would help him blend in with the hunter. Once he tried them on, however, he didn't want to take them off. Next came the tee shirts, which he was a little more open to. He only got solid colors though and had something against patterns. And flannel.

Her favorite purchase of the day? Black loafers. Emma drug Castiel into a shoe store to find something a little sturdier than the dress shoes he was wearing, and she expected to get some boots that all hunters seemed partial to. (She won't lie, she's got a pair of steel-toes wedged in the back of the van in case of emergencies.) She was pretty sure that Castiel would like boots, because he seemed to like sturdy and durable clothing after getting a little taste, but she was so wrong. The angel _hated_ boots. He hated the way they trapped his toes and hung heavy on his feet, and Emma couldn't argue because that was the exact reason why she wore her flipflops. Then he saw them. A plain pair of black loafers, and it's like those shoes were made just for the angel. He was in love as soon as he put them on, and it took Emma five minutes to talk him into taking them off so she could pay for them.

All in all, it was a pretty good day.

"Hey, Cas, do you mind if we take a little trip? I've got some old books in my storage unit that could help, and we should make it back before Dean and Sam." They were back in her beautiful van, with their bags scattered around the back.

"May I change?"

"Of course you can. Those clothes are all yours now. You can even put whatever you don't put on in the new duffel we got you." Castiel's smile was small and grateful, and it made Emma's heart ache. The angel got so happy over the littlest things.

"Then we may travel to your storage unit."

"Alright, angel-boy, get to changing." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she turned the ignition over, and the angel easily moved into the back of the van as she pulled out of her parking space. Normally she insisted on people wearing their seatbelts at all times, but the dude was an angel. Even if the car did crash, he'd be fine.

Brown eyes glanced up into the mirror as she pulled onto the road, and she quickly moved her eyes away and tried to ignore the heat stinging her cheeks. The suit and trench coat really didn't do the angel justice. She thought he'd be scrawny or possibly wiry under those clothes, but that was definitely not the case. His shoulders were wide and narrowed into a waist with delicious looking hipbones, and his chest and stomach looked firm. And she really needs to keep her eyes on the road before she becomes roadkill. By the time Castiel returned to the passenger seat a few minutes later, the blush had left her cheeks and she was breathing normally again. What? She spent centuries in Hell. She can't be blamed for getting a little hot and bothered at the sight of a very well-formed man. Angel. Whatever.

"Feel better?" Emma asked as she glanced over at him. He was wearing a pair of grey jeans, not quite in the skinny category but still form fitting, and a plain green tee shirt. If the shirt reminded her of a certain hunter's eyes, she wasn't going to say anything. Another peek at the floorboard confirmed that he was wearing the black loafers, and Emma bit down on her smile.

"Much. Thank you for purchasing these for me."

"Anytime. So, Castiel, can I ask you something?"

"You may call me Cas." Emma felt a little honored at that and let her smile out. Dammit, she deserves to be a little happy, right?

"Can you explain the whole vessel thing to me, Cas? Because I kinda get it without understanding a single thing." The angel drummed his fingers against his knees and looked out the window, like he was thinking. What she was asking was probably very simple to him, and he was probably trying to think of a way to phrase it so that a clueless human could make sense of it all.

"Every angel has a line of vessels from which to choose from that is specific to that angel. This body once belonged to Jimmy Novak, and it was his ancestral line that I had permission to use as vessels. That makes him a true vessel; the only vessel that can truly contain me. The strongest vessel. All angels must be granted permission before entering a vessel, but an angel can enter any vessel. However, if it is not a true vessel, the body may disintegrate slowly or instantly. It depends on the vessel and angel."

"What happened to Jimmy Novak?" Cas's fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their rhythm.

"After I was killed and resurrected back into this body, Jimmy's soul was given passage into Heaven." So, the guy was dead for good. But Cas was still in his true vessel. Was that normal? Or was Cas as special as Sam made him sound?

"Okay, so angels can either enter their own personalized true vessel or some other random vessel, at the risk of exploding. Got it. What about Gabriel?" She really wanted to know about the archangel hiding out somewhere in her soul.

"Only archangels have the ability to construct a vessel instead of entering one, but it weakens them severely. However, the vessel they construct must take the form of a vessel from their line. When Gabriel left Heaven, he constructed his own vessel and was able to hide from Heaven. Gabriel faced Lucifer in his weakest form. Lucifer was not in his true vessel, but even a weakened human vessel is stronger than a constructed one. Michael believes that Gabriel knew he wouldn't win and that's why he was able to escape."

"I'm guessing I'm not Gabriel's true vessel?" She'd know something like that, right?

"No, not his true vessel, but a vessel strong enough to contain his weakened grace."

"He did more than just inhabit my body though, right? He actually hotwired himself into my soul and rode down into Hell with me?" Cas was still drumming his fingers against his denim covered knee.

"Normally an angel only enters the body, but Gabriel was very weak. He must have entered your soul in the hopes of becoming stronger, but you were taken to Hell before his strength returned." Made sense. Only four days after her crazy talking light dream, she was pulled down into Hell and slapped onto the rack.

"So, he was what? Trapped in my soul?"

"I believe that is accurate." That nauseas feeling was back; the same one she got when she first learned that there was an archangel in her soul. If there was someone out there looking out for all of them, then maybe the archangel was spared the torture from the Pit that she suffered through.

"How are you going to get him out?"

"Balthazar has been readying Gabriel's constructed vessel for his grace, at the expense of his own. Michael has weakened his constructed vessel, so his grace will need time to replenish. Gabriel's own grace, inside your soul, needs time to recover from the Pit as well. Once everyone is strong enough, Michael will remove the grace from your soul and return it to Gabriel's constructed vessel. Balthazar will keep Gabriel's vessel steady while I tend to your soul during the transfer."

"Is it dangerous? Am I gonna die again?" What she really wanted to know was if she still had a one-way ticket to Hell if all of this went southward.

"You will survive the transfer. I will ensure it." Emma smiled over at the angel, and Cas looked away from the scenery outside of his window long enough to smile back.

**SAM**

"This!" One turn. "Is!" Two turns. "Why!" Three turns. "We!" Four turns. "Need!" Five turns. "Voo!" Six turns. "Doo!" Seven turns. "Tattoos!"

On the eighth turn, Sam finally puked. Since he was hanging upside down from the ceiling and still spinning, the projectile liquid moved out in a graceful arc. Dean, who was still on the ground and fighting off an ant two feet taller than him, caught some of the foul smelling chunks on his jacket. His _leather_ jacket. That witch bitch was so gonna pay for that. The thought of Dean's wrath over his clothes would've been funny if Sam wasn't still trying to hold down lunch.

Witches, man.

**EMMA**

"This is it?" Emma blinked the grit out of her eyes and looked away from the windshield to her companion. Twenty-four hours. She drove twenty-four straight hours, which doesn't beat her seventy-eight hour record, but it's still pretty impressive. She could've stopped to sleep, but she didn't see the point. Before, she used to say that she could sleep when she was dead. Now, she knows that there isn't any sleeping after death. There's just slick blood and sharp bones and wearing intestines as belts and claws ripping out spines and—NO! Now is not the time to take a trip down Hell Lane. She can save that breakdown for later.

"I saved the guy who owns this place from a very fun poltergeist. For repayment, he gave me a storage unit. I'm pretty sure he never checks the thing or checks how often I stop by, so all of my old stuff should still be there. Before I bit it, or got bit, I dropped off most of my references and my weapons trunk. If I'm going back to hunting, I need all my gear."

"That sounds reasonable." She gives a speech, and he gives three words.

Emma's noticed that Cas is a man of few words, and she can respect that. And him. She might not have made the trip so sanely without him. They played a few road trip games to start with, but apparently even winning every game of I-Spy gets boring after a while. So Emma twisted and rooted around enough to nearly dislocate her newly crafted body before finding her iPod buried under her seat. Cas is an angel who has been alive since before humans were created, so he knows what music is. He can probably detail the entire history of music if he wanted to. The angel, however, did not know what kind of music he liked to listen to. Luckily for him, Emma's musical mood changed with the wind. For hours they listened to almost every genre of music there is, and it turns out that the angel has a love of classic rock and jazz.

"Come on, you can help me carry the trunk." Emma jumped out of her seat and did a little shake to loosen up her tense muscles, and she smiled over at Cas as they made the short trek to her storage unit. The old brass key slid in easily, and Emma groped around blindly until she found the light switch. Dull light flooded the room, and dark eyes made a quick sweep of the room. All of her protection symbols were still whole, and the big devil's trap took up most of the floor.

"Are you warded against angels?"

"Never needed to be. Should I ward this place? I know Dean wants me to get an anti-angel detection tattoo, but this place should be okay, right?" Cas just stared at her, and Emma shrugged. "Right, better safe than sorry. Blood or paint?"

"My blood will suffice. Gather what you need." Emma saluted and moved off where her bookshelves were. She found one of her smaller trunks, emptied it, and started scanning the shelves. Some of the books were so old that Emma was almost scared to touch them, but she grabbed anything that looked like it could even hint at angels or upcoming Apocalypses. Once that was done, she moved over to her weapons trunk and flipped it open. She felt Cas's presence at her side and looked over at him.

"Are all of those necessary?" The trunk was six feet long and pretty deep, and she has really missed all of her weapons. Wearing just her skin and some fabric isn't enough.

"Not everyone is as skilled as the Winchesters. Us normal hunters need a few more toys," Emma said with a bright smile. She strapped a knife to her right ankle and her sparkly taser to her left ankle (it might be pink and glittery, but it's been enough of a distraction to save her ass more than once).

"Dean and Sam carry several weapons on their person." All hunters did, but maybe Cas isn't always so good at picking up on jokes.

"I know they do. It's just that those two have quite the reputation with other hunters. Are you okay with partial nudity?" At his nod, Emma stripped her shirt off. Cas didn't bat an eye, probably because he already has his own hunter. Cue the dramatic sighing.

"A good reputation?" Cas asked. Emma slipped on her waist holster and started packing weapons onto it. The bottom of the holster was flush against the top of her jeans, just like it was supposed to be. Her iron knuckles were slotted onto the sides, in case of a ghost attack, and she tucked her favorite gun against the small of her back.

"Depends on who you ask, I guess. Some hunters think they're full of themselves, some think they're hunting gods, some think they're the worst hunters ever for starting the last Apocalypse, and some don't give a shit either way."

"What do you think?" Emma looked down at her hands, with the scarred palms, and thought it over. While she was thinking, she reached back with one hand and popped the catch on her bra. A shimmy and a shake later, she was completely topless and wrapping a bandage just under the swell of her breasts. It was a little hard to do since she had to actually hold her breasts up with one arm and wrap with the other, but it's a move she's done a thousand times.

"I think the Winchesters are hunters that save people. I think that they're two brothers who love each other and made mistakes. I think they're human." Emma did three circuits with the bandages and then tucked a knife under each breast. A little glue, that wore off naturally in twenty-four hours or could be ripped off, secured the bottom of the bandages and ensured that the knives couldn't slip out. Another little shimmy and a flick of her wrist later, her bra was back in place.

"I think you're right." When Emma glanced up from tucking a spare clip into her cleavage and into the top of the bandage, Cas was smiling gently at her. If anyone else had glanced at him, they wouldn't have thought he was smiling at all. Emma was starting to read him a little better. Maybe.

"I'm always right." She reached back to touch her gun with a smile, but hers was definitely noticeable and made her cheeks bulge.

"You do realize that your gun is an alarming shade of pink?" Emma pictured the gun resting easily against the small of her back and had to fight back a laugh. The 9mm was a dark pink and actually color-coordinated with her taser.

"I once thought that a monster hunter couldn't own anything pink, but then I decided that was bullshit. It might be pink, but it can kill things just fine." Emma shrugged her shirt back on and glanced down her body. The shirt stretched tight across her breasts, but that couldn't really be helped, but flared around the lower part of her body. Perfect. Having D-cups was a pain in the back, but sometimes they helped the investigation along. She also made sure that her shirts were just loose enough to hide the weapons strapped to her waistline. She liked having the weapons attached to her ankles higher on her thighs, but that was not possible with skinny jeans.

"I imagine you can kill many things with all of those." His blue eyes ran down her body, assessing, but with no heat. Oh yeah, angel-boy was definitely taken.

"These ain't even the half of it," she said and nodded towards the trunk. Cas looked away from her to inside of it, and Emma looked on with pride as he cataloged the weapons there. More handguns (all non-pink), a few shotguns, a machete, two axes, a few stakes dipped in various types of blood, a bullet-proof vest, a sniper rifle (that she wasn't the best at using but couldn't seem to give up), a mace, one sword, a really big med-kit, a giant tackle box filled with herbs, a makeup box with bullets stacked inside, and… "There you are!"

"Is this standard?" Emma pulled the rosary over her head and felt the cross bump against the gun clip. She never really liked taking the thing off, but she stopped wearing it after she made her deal. It just didn't feel right to wear it when her soul belonged to a demon.

"Yeah, I think so. Oh! Let me grab my toolkit and that really old bone!" Emma dashed back into the depths of the storage space and returned a few minutes later with a tool kit under one arm and a bagged bone clutched in her opposite fist.

"Why do you need a bone?" Cas asked as she placed the items inside her weapons trunk.

"When Sam and Dean get back, we're going to visit a friend of mine to get some more artwork done. I'm getting the anti-angel one, and the boys are going to get some of my protection symbols. The guy who does them, Grayson, needs payment. I think the bone of a saint from the ninth century should work."

"Dean and Sam are going to get protection symbols?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I think so. It should help them, shouldn't it?" Cas looked at her ribcage, where her artwork was covered by her thin tee shirt. Maybe she should start wearing a plaid over shirt. Or at least put her gray jacket back on.

"I believe that is a good idea. Are we done here?" Emma nodded and bent down to lock the trunk, and Cas easily lifted it into his arms. It took her forever to drag that thing out of the van and into the storage unit, and she was sweating buckets by the time she was done. Cas looks like he's holding a pillow made out of goose feathers. So unfair. Emma scooped up the smaller trunk of books and led the way back to the van. Packing it up took seconds, and Emma climbed back into the driver's seat.

"Alrighty. Two more stops and then we'll be headed back."

**SAM**

"Oh, thank you!" Sam tried not to groan as the small woman barreled into him, and his bruised ribs and sprained ankle screamed out for him. The woman, Amber Matthews, was crying happily into his shirt and still thanking him. Dean, whose face was completely swollen on the left side, was talking to Amber's brother. The brother looked relieved and grateful, and Sam could tell that Dean wanted to glare at the man's on-running commentary of everything they just did while taking down the witch that was trying to kill his sister. Fortunately for Mr. Matthews, glaring is hard to accomplish when one eye is swollen shut.

Twenty minutes later, they were back in a small motel room and groaning about their various injuries. Sam's ankle got sprained after dangling from the ceiling and getting spun around for half an hour, but it was the ribs that hurt the worst. After getting free, he was attacked by what he's sure was a giant caterpillar and tossed down three flights of stairs. Dean had been left alone to fend against the army of giant sized ants and finally the witch, but it was all over now.

"Anything broken? Do I need to call Cas to come patch you up?" Sam sucked in a painful breath, and he was pretty sure that none of his ribs were broken. By now, he could tell the difference between broken and bruised.

"No, he should stay with Emma. If it's okay with him, he can heal us when we get back." Dean just looked at him for a moment, as if checking to see if he was telling the truth, before nodding and walking off. He heard the bathroom sink turn on, which had to mean that Dean was now scrubbing the puke off his leather jacket, and Sam fell back against the bed. He needed some sleep.

**EMMA**

The van was now fully stocked. There were bags of clothes, trunks filled with weapons and books, and a few cases of energy drinks and energy bars. Yep, just perfect. Emma shifted her ass against the wooden bench to get more comfortable, failed, and reached into her pocket. She used her teeth to rip open the small packet, and the smile she directed towards the two capsules looked more like a grimace. With a quiet prayer that no one was probably listening to, she popped the adrenaline-inducing pills into her mouth and chased them down with a sweet tasting energy drink. Oh yeah. Give her half an hour and she'll be so wired that she'll start seeing sounds and tasting colors.

"Why are we here?" Cas asked. She told him he could wait in the van if he didn't feel like walking with her, but the angel fell into step beside her with ease. Her van was parked just around the corner, and they were sitting on an old bench that has definitely seen better days.

"Over by that fence, in the orange pants and white shirt. That's why we're here." She saw Cas's head turn out of the corner of her eye, and she moved her elbows up onto the back of the bench. The little girl she'd pointed out was leaning against a chain link fence with a friend on either side of her, and all three girls were watching the varsity softball players practice. School had clearly just recently got out, because kids of all ages were milling around as parents came to pick them up.

"Your sister?"

"How'd you know?"

"Dean told me that you sold your soul to save your sister's life. He called you an idiot."

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one. That's my Krissy. I just wanted to see her and make sure she's okay." One of Krissy's friends started laughing, and Krissy lightly elbowed the girl on her other side before running off. She was laughing as she ran away, and it made Emma feel a little lighter. She's going to have nightmares about the things that happened to her in the Pit, but seeing Krissy run and laugh makes it all worth it.

"We should leave soon." Emma drank in the sight of Krissy's bright smile and nearly golden hair (it's been cut recently and stops just below her shoulders now) before rubbing her palms up and down her jittery thighs.

"Hey, Cas, do you know how to drive?"

**SAM**

Dean froze with a forkful of pie right in front of his lips, and Sam swallowed down his bite of chicken sandwich at the strange look on his brother's face. He looked almost…scared? Not scared like he was being chased by something that wanted to kill him (that actually made Dean smile most of the time). Not scared like someone was about to kill Sam. So not extreme terror, but something milder? Maybe like someone was insulting his pie, but Sam was the only other person in their small motel room.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean seemed to shake himself out of it and then winced when the move pulled at the swollen side of his face.

"I just got this cold feeling, like I should be worried about something." The words were a little muffled since Dean's lips were split and puffed up, but Sam had no problem understanding him.

"Like what?" Dean seemed to think it over and then just shrugged.

"I don't know, man. I just need a few hours of sleep, or something." Yeah, or something.

**EMMA**

"_There's my favorite hunter! What took you so long?" Dark brown eyes frantically moved around the space as she tried to place herself. The big circular bed looked familiar with its blood-red sheets and fluffy pillows. The white carpet under her toes was soft enough to sleep on, and she's been here before. This is…this is the room she stayed in when she visited Vegas. She'd been celebrating surviving on her own for an entire year and decided to splurge on one of the nicer rooms. _

"_Who's there?" She'd been tempted to have as much sex as humanly possible in two days on that bed, but she'd been selfish in the end. She'd kept the bed all to herself. _

"_You're sharing this time, sugar." Emma blinked and a man was sitting on the bed, dead center. He was completely unfamiliar, but she knew him. Somehow, she knew him. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark red button-up. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up and the top few buttons were undone, so she could see a little more of his skin. His feet were bare, and she spent a few second just staring at his toes. His hair was brown, light brown, and looked soft to the touch. His eyes were…_golden_. That was the only word for them. A rich amber the same color as the finest whiskey. Bright and warm, like a sunrise. _

"_Who are you?" She knew him, but what was his name?_

"_He's nobody, little Gracie," a voice hissed in her ear. The demon's nails traced bloody lines down her torso as he pressed up against her back, and Emma choked on the smoke and sulfur in the air. _

"_I'm not in Hell anymore," Emma whispered as she clenched her eyes shut. She was asleep and dreaming. She was having a nightmare. She knew this was going to happen. Probably shouldn't have had all those energy drinks._

"_Oh, Gracie, don't you know? You can take the girl out of Hell, but you can't take Hell out of the girl!" Her screams made her ears ring as the demon ripped her ribcage apart, and she felt the demon gripping her beating heart. "It's here, Gracie, right here. Forever."_

"_Emma!" When her eyes opened, they immediately sought out the familiar stranger on what was once her bed. His shirt had been ripped open when his ribcage was split, and his beautiful amber eyes were dulled into a murky brown. No, wait, that's the shade of brown her eyes are. His bare feet were blood free. "It's okay, Emma, I'm here. Forever."_

**SAM**

Sam looked away from the gun he was cleaning to where Dean was stretched out on the small motel bed. Dean was fine, aside from the fact that half of his face was twice its normal size. His older brother was stretched out on his stomach, undamaged side of his face pressed against a thin pillow, and snoring quietly. Dean was fine, so why did Sam have the feeling that something was wrong? Something was always wrong in their world, and the overwhelming feeling that everything was going to Hell normally only came up when Dean did something really stupid or was seconds away from dying. But Dean was fine.

**EMMA**

Emma woke up on her thin mattress with a scream still burning her throat and hands gently holding her wrists. She bit down on her bottom lip to cut the sound off, and wild eyes stared up unseeing for a moment. After a few slower breaths, the nearly black eyes focused and caught a flash of green before meeting blue. Cas was crouching next to her, holding her wrists together above her midsection, and just looking down at her as she tried to control her breathing. Once her chest stopped heaving and her throat didn't burn quite as bad, she pried her teeth out of her lip and swept her tongue over the stinging flesh instead.

"Uh, Cas?" She glanced down at her wrists, and Cas slowly removed his hands.

"You were reaching for a weapon. I thought it best to restrain you."

"Good call." Emma rubbed her wrists and popped her neck, and she looked around the van so she wouldn't have to look at Cas. She lays down for a nap after teaching an angel to drive and crashing from energy drinks, and she has a nightmare so bad that she has to be stopped from grabbing a weapon. Fuck, what if Cas hadn't been around? She could've shot herself. Or maybe gone completely batshit and escaped from the van to shoot an innocent civilian. Sunlight reflected off the rearview mirror and hit her right in the eyes, and she felt like hissing as she raised a hand to block the light. Her Vegas shot glass was still hanging from the mirror…Vegas…her bed. The big circular one with sheets the dark red color of warm blood.

"I tried to calm your dreams, but I was blocked." That was probably something to worry about.

"He was beautiful, and I killed him." The familiar stranger had certainly been attractive, but beautiful wasn't a word that would normally be used to describe him. Except, he _was_ beautiful. It was in the light in his eyes; the light that was darkened because of her. She stared up at Cas, who looked as confused as she felt.

"We're only an hour away. Dean will know what to do." It was said with the conviction of a saint, and Emma smiled shakily at the angel. She was completely and utterly fucked.

* * *

**Finis: **Whew! Writing this one was a doozy. It's really hard sometimes to go from comedic scenes to something depressing. Out of curiosity, am I the only one who thinks that Cas would look absolutely adorable shopping? Because that's all I can picture, and I really like him in comfy clothes. Also, just stating for the record, Emma totally ships Dean and Cas. Hard. The ending is kinda important, because the mystery man from Emma's dream is _you-know-who_. No, not Voldemort.

Huge THANK YOU to **KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl**! I am actually planning to write from Mo's POV at some point. Not a lot, but a few scenes. I'm working on Chapter 12 now and I haven't written a Mo scene yet, so it'll definitely be a little while.

A little plot bunny hopped into my dreams (most of my story ideas come from really weird dreams), and I've thought about bringing Adam into the story and writing from his POV. In addition to Sam and Emma. Because I love the idea of Adam's character and hate that he got almost no screen-time and then left in Hell. Any thoughts?


	7. Chapter 7

**TIB: **[See End Notes]

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
****Inner Soul Communication**

* * *

**EMMA**

"Status report?" Emma asked as she parked in front of the newly built house. It looked like any other house, in theory, but it was regularly inhabited by demons and angels. Sounds like the premise of a cult TV show. Or a bad porno. A cult TV show with nude scenes? Yeah, that sounds better. Emma really needs to get laid. Stat.

"Michael and Balthazar are still gathering their strength, and Dean and Sam have yet to return."

"Okay, so, we should probably take these books over to Bobby's and start going through them. Oh! We need to take our clothes inside."

"I can take them inside. Where should I put yours?" Emma looked away from her worn steering wheel to the angel sitting at her side, and how is this her life again?

"Just dump them in Sam's room for now." She blinked and he was gone. Just…poof. A quick glance into the back showed that all of the bags were gone too, and Emma just shrugged before sliding out of the van. She wrestled the small trunk of books out of the back and when she turned around, Cas was staring down at her. "Whoa, that was fast. So, to Bobby's?"

"This way." Stacks of cars separated the two houses, and Emma stared up at the older house for a moment. Bobby brought her here once, when she was seventeen and still bitter. She'd been angry at the world, and she'd nearly coughed up a lung when Bobby passed over her first ever taste of hunter's helper. After a moment of just _looking_, she followed the angel through the front door.

"Yo, Bobby!" Emma yelled as she stomped through the house. The last thing you ever wanted to do was sneak up on a hunter. Sometimes you just got a fist in the face, but the unlucky ones sometimes got a belly full of rock salt. She likes her midsection whole, thank you very much.

"Emma? That you?" Emma stepped into the small living room (small because of the old furniture and so many books) and gently placed the trunk at her feet. Then her face was pressed against a soft shirt while strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she reached up to grip the back of Bobby's shirt.

"You didn't think I'd leave forever without seeing you again, did you?" If Emma's voice wavered a bit, Bobby didn't mention it.

"Emma, darling, you should have told me that Bobby was a dear friend. I might have given you a day pass." Emma tensed as Bobby pulled away from her, and she peered around his body to see the King of Hell himself resting back against the front of Bobby's desk.

"What are you doing here?" This time her voice was strong, but her hands were shaking at her sides. Crowley pouted at her and spread his arms wide.

"I'm on the good side now, so there's no need for that tone. I'm just here to help." Emma snorted and Crowley smiled. "Why are _you_ here? Shouldn't you be sitting safe somewhere and incubating an archangel?"

"Me and Cas took a trip to my old storage unit. You know, Hudgins was supposed to clean it out for me. I tried calling him but never got an answer." Emma was looking right at Bobby now, and the older hunter ran a hand over his face. Somewhere between getting a little high off the wonderful smells of various shampoos and giggling with store clerks about the adorableness of Cas as he picked out clothes, Emma called Jack Hudgins. The old paranoid hunter was a favorite of hers, and she'd given him the spare key to her storage unit. Hudgins rarely ever left his fortified home and was (mostly) retired, but he still cataloged research on everything. She'd trusted the crazy ol' coot to divide up her belongings just the way she trusted Bobby to take care of her body.

"Hudgins was helping another hunter with a rougarou. He didn't make it."

"Yeah, I figured something happened to him when he didn't pick up. That's why I made the trip out to Cali." Emma lightly knocked her foot against the trunk on the floor and tried to ignore the heavy feeling of the demon's eyes on her.

"Well, let's take a look. Crowley—"

"Yes, I know. Goodbye, for now, little Gracie." The demon disappeared, and Emma met Bobby's eyes. The hunter looked two parts pissed off and one part frustrated, and Emma glanced over at Cas. The angel wasn't paying them any mind and was instead standing still with his eyes closed.

"Right. Time to hit the books."

**SAM**

Sam stepped into his room, was once again hit by the fact that he had a room, and took a look around. The bed had been made, a few plastic bags were sitting on top of the mattress, and Emma was nowhere in sight. He dropped his bags off in front of the closet and peeked into the bathroom. Nope, still no Emma. Probably for the best, because he needed to wash off the grime that came from staying in sleazy motel rooms after killing…things. Like giant caterpillars. When he came out sometime later, in just a towel because he forgot his clothes, Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed and looking into the bags.

"Sensual amber body wash? Is there something you want to tell me, Sam?" Hazel eyes glared, as much as possible while wearing a small piece of cloth, which just made Dean's smile that much wider.

"I'm pretty sure those are Emma's, dude." At the sound of the smaller hunter's name, Dean's smile dropped. His older brother turned to stare down at his knees, and Sam took that as his cue to dress quickly in peace. Dean was wearing clean clothes too, so he must've showered.

"Emma and Cas aren't here. The van's been moved to outside, and Michael and Balthazar are still sleeping."

"Have you tried calling Cas?" Sam yanked a plain tee shirt on and then reached into his closet to grab a plaid shirt to wear over it. When he turned around, Dean was just opening his eyes and Cas was standing between the bed and the bathroom. At least, Sam was pretty sure that was Cas. Where was the trench coat?

"Cas?" Dean sounded as confused as Sam felt. The angel was wearing…gray jeans, a plain green tee shirt, and were those loafers?

"Hello, Dean. Emma and I are at Bobby's looking over some of her books," Cas said quickly.

"I've already read all of her books. There's nothing in any of them." Sam had thumbed through everything he got from the trunk of books that'd been left behind in Emma's van, but they were all pretty basic.

"We went to retrieve more from her storage unit. We may find something in them." As he talked, Cas stepped forward and pressed his palm against Dean's forehead. Sam knew, without a doubt, that his brother's bruised and swollen face was healed.

"Is that _your_ bag of clothes on my bed?" Dean asked as the angel stepped away. Dean had bags of clothes on his bed? Like Emma's on his? Did Emma take Cas shopping with her? That would explain the new outfit.

"I wasn't sure where else to put it. I can move it." Cas was standing in front of Sam now, and Sam closed his eyes as two fingers pressed against his forehead. His bruised ribs stopped aching as a cool breeze rolled through him, and it didn't hurt to stand on his ankle anymore.

"No, they're fine, but why are you—"

"Asmodeus has returned." Cas disappeared in a rustle of feathers, and Sam tried not to laugh at the confused and frustrated look on his big brother's face. They had more important things to do.

**EMMA**

**From The Journal of Eddie Hughes**

**Self-Proclaimed Prophet**

**Town Drunk/Crazy Homeless Guy**

_All the people in town call me crazy, but I don't care. They don't have to see what I see, do they? Didn't have to watch all of that beautiful light being twisted up until there was only smoke behind. They ain't the ones having dreams about the Morningstar and serpents locked in cages. Just last week I saw them all down there, hooks holding them onto racks, as their skin was stripped off and their souls were burned out. I keep hearing the way they screamed and begged for it all to end, and it did. It ended for them. The hooks were ripped out, and those freed started stripping skin off whoever was put in front of them. I prefer those dreams over the others, because, yes, it can be worse than never ending torture. _

_I dreamed of the battle again. Of light and smoke, Hell fire and frozen pride. Lucifer almost won. Everyone is all so sure that Michael had him pinned under a righteous boot, but Michael was losing. Humankind was almost wiped out, and do you know who saved us? A __**demon**_**. **_A demon stood up for humanity and tipped the scale in Michael's favor, so that the serpent was locked in his Cage until the End Times are upon us. There were angels fighting to make us extinct, and a demon stopped them. Asmodeus—_

**SAM**

When Sam stepped into Bobby's house, just behind Dean, all they heard were yells. They both took off towards the living room, and Sam paused just behind Dean's shoulder to take in the scene. Bobby was at his desk, a book laid open in front of him, and staring at the center of the room. Cas was propped up against the wall to their left, also staring at the center of the room with a blank look on his face. Emma, soft little Emma, was standing in the center of the room and yelling up at Mo. The demon was still dressed in his usual attire of black skinny jeans and heavy looking boots, but his jacket was missing to show a blood covered gray tee shirt. His chin was ducked down towards his chest as Emma glared up at him, and it made Sam think of a little boy who'd tracked mud through his mom's kitchen.

"Now, listen here you sorry piece of a demon bastard!"

"Emma, love, I've been trying to be good."

"You pet my hair with my brain leaking out of my skull. We'll redefine the meaning of _good_ later, after you've explained everything!"

"I'll explain anything you want." The demon's voice was so quiet and defeated next to Emma's loud and angry tone, and Sam looked back and forth between them.

"I want the whole story between what happened in Heaven, Lucifer's fall, the big battle. Get to talking, pretty boy." Emma fell down onto the couch and crossed her arms under her chest, and Mo took a step forward before gracefully folding his legs underneath him and sitting on the floor at Emma's feet. Dean moved farther into the room and turned a chair around so that he was straddling it, and Sam drug another chair over to the edge of Bobby's desk before settling into it. When Mo started speaking, it was with his back to the room and his eyes raised to Emma's face. His hands were even lightly cupping her knees.

"God created angels to carry out His will. The first angels to ever be created were the archangels. The four most powerful angels, God's most beautiful creations. First he made Michael, the perfect son. Heaven's greatest warrior. We all trembled in his presence because of how _strong_ it is. Michael is the closest many of us have ever come to God. Then God made Lucifer, the light bringer. It was Lucifer who brought light to the dark reaches of Heaven. He was gentle and kind, and standing within his light was to truly live. Next God made Raphael, the healer. Raphael was the one who picked us up and soothed our pain. He loved us all and never wanted to bring harm on another. Lastly, God made Gabriel, his messenger. The youngest of the archangels and the most humane. He was kind and jovial, and he loved more fiercely than all the others combined."

Okay, that sounded…more like the stories Sam always believed before actually meeting any angels. Michael, all powerful and a protector. Raphael, who he never personally met, a healer. And Gabriel…yeah, jovial definitely worked.

"After the archangels, the other angels were created. Including myself. I remember the day of my creation. I was given a name, Asmodeus, and told that I would be a great warrior. I was gifted to Lucifer and served as his general. Under his command, I lead our garrison."

"You were Lucifer's general?" Emma asked quietly.

"Yes, I was. All of the archangels had a general to help them lead their garrison. Balthazar was Gabriel's general, Raphael's general was an angel named Anael. Michael's general was Beelzebub. One of the first angels created, not long after my own creation, was Abaddon. An angel of death; she was so beautiful that it was hard to imagine that she could cause so much destruction. Not long after we were created, God made humans. We watched as you took your first steps and guarded your eternal home, until…"

"Keep going, Mo." Emma lightly tapped the back of one of his hands, and Sam watched the way that the demon's back expanded under his thin tee shirt.

"Heaven has never been perfect. Only the archangels and a select few have ever even seen God, but Heaven was peaceful enough. Then God commanded that all of us bow before his greatest creations, to proclaim our love and give our promise to protect you. Michael was the first to bow before the humans and swear his protection, and Gabriel was the first to promise his love. Raphael gave a vow to watch over the humans, but Lucifer…Lucifer refused. He fled our home and set out to prove that humans were _flawed_ and _weak_. And evil entered the Garden."

Now, this part sounded a little more familiar. Lucifer sneaking into Eden to trick evil into the world? Yeah, that much he knew.

"Eve was severely punished, and it was she that later gave birth to all the evil in the world. That came later, after her death. After Lucifer showed our Father that humans couldn't be trusted, he thought that God would rid the world of humans and that things would return to the way they were before. Instead, God created Hell for the evil in the world and denied them access to Heaven. It drove Lucifer mad, and that's when he came to us. His garrison. He needed to show the angels, our brothers and sisters, that God was wrong about the humans. It couldn't be done without help, so Lucifer went to Michael. Instead of helping, Michael threw him into Hell. Most of the garrison stayed in Heaven, in fear of Michael's wrath, but Lilith and I followed after our Morningstar."

"And became demons." Emma wasn't asking; it was pretty clear what happened.

"We came to help him, and he twisted our grace into smoke to spite his Father's name. Everything that I was just disappeared, and I belonged to Lucifer. God was no longer my Father, only Lucifer remained. Lilith and I did his bidding; we whispered to humans and tempted them to sin, and we were the first to carve at their souls and turn them into demons. While we created Lucifer's demonic army, Lucifer snuck into Heaven and recruited angels to stand with him. Many followed him, and two of the strongest were Beelzebub and Abaddon. The other Fallen angels kept their grace, so it was suddenly angels killing and torturing humans."

That was seriously messed up. Yeah, most of the angels they've met have been complete dicks, but working to wipe out an entire species under Lucifer's orders?

"The battles were fierce and never ending. I lost track of how many brothers and sisters I killed with my own hands, how many I watched being burned from the inside out, how many souls that I tore into in Hell. All I know is that it finally became too much, and I remembered who I was. Michael and Lucifer were locked in battle, and Lucifer looked at me for help. Called me by name, looked at my twisted grace, and asked me for help. I…I stabbed him with my own blade and went back to Hell."

Mo ran, plain and simple. He killed and tortured for nearly an eternity, and then he ran. Emma pulled lightly on her hair and leaned forward to look down at Mo, who was gripping her knees and taking slow breaths.

"What happened next?"

"The Cage was placed in the deepest pits of Hell, and Lucifer was locked inside. Beelzebub and Abaddon were locked away here on Earth, with specific instructions to not awaken until the Apocalypse had come and gone. Most of the Fallen angels, the ones that followed Lucifer, were taken back to Heaven and imprisoned. They are guarded by Dorcas, who was once the guardian of Abaddon. The angels that escaped imprisonment hid inside Hell, where Lilith twisted them into demons. Azazel was one of those that escaped punishment, as was Alistair."

Mo was still looking at Emma, but Sam knew those last few words were for him and Dean. The demon that cursed him…was once an angel. The demon that tortured his brother for decades and then taught him to do the same was once an _angel_.

"I hid from them all, little Emma. I watched as the world passed by, as humans evolved. I watched the death on Earth and heard the screams in Hell, but I did nothing. When Lilith came to me, asking for help on destroying the Seals, I hid even deeper. When Lucifer was freed from the Cage, I did nothing. I wanted nothing to do with any of it. I didn't want to kill angels who were once my family, and I didn't want to kill the demons I helped create. I didn't want to kill anymore."

It sounded almost like the demon was pleading, and his knuckles were white where they gripped Emma's knees. Sam had a feeling that she might have bruises later from the tight hold.

"What's changed, Mo? Why are you willing to help now?"

"Lucifer wanted to start the Apocalypse, to wipe out humans and bring paradise. Part of that paradise is the eradication of demons. No more Hell, no more Heaven…just peace. Beelzebub and Abaddon don't want peace; they live for chaos. I don't know what they're planning, but I do know that it's worse than what Lucifer wanted."

Worse than the extinction of humankind? Along with demons? Well, the no demon thing might be good, but there's no point if there are no humans around to enjoy it.

"Was Gabriel beautiful?" Emma's quiet question caught Sam off guard, and he snapped out of his thoughts to look over at the couch. Emma's hands were over Mo's now, and her brown eyes were so dark they looked nearly black. She looked paler too, and maybe like she was shaking. The question must have caught everyone off guard, because Cas looked suddenly tense and Dean looked lost.

"All of the archangels are," was the simple answer. Emma's nose scrunched up, and she lightly shook her head. Her head barely even moved, and her hands reached up to hold the demon's face.

"Was he beautiful and golden? Like a sunrise?" Okay, yeah, definitely not the Gabriel that Sam remembered. Then again, angels and demons see things differently.

"Have you seen him, little love?" One of Emma's hands moved to press against her sternum, right over the swell of her breasts, and she looked like she was barely breathing.

"I had a dream, and the man in it was a familiar stranger. I knew him, of course I knew him, but I've never seen him before in my life. His eyes were…they were _golden_, like a sunrise. Was he tortured too? Was an archangel tortured in Hell because of me?" Cas and Dean both seemed to flinch at the question. Were they thinking about torture in Hell?

"I don't know, Emma." Emma's head fell forward at that and her hand dropped from Mo's face.

"You should get back, Mo. I won't call again." The demon bowed his head and disappeared. The room was quiet and still as Emma sucked in a breath, and her face was blank when she looked back up. "I guess we should keep reading, huh?"

"We need to get that angel protection on you, before Beelz or Abaddon get wind of the archangel in your soul." Sam glanced over at Dean, who was now staring straight at Emma.

"I'll call Grayson. When do you wanna leave?" Emma looked exhausted; has she slept at all?

"We'll get a few hours and then head out. Where are we going?"

"A little north of Albuquerque."

"Awesome. Go call your voodoo guy." Emma walked off, and Sam heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Outside then. Dean turned to talk to Bobby, and Sam stayed put for all of two minutes before following after Emma. When he found her outside, she was propped up against an old car and staring down at the phone in her hand. It looked new and easily disposable, so she must have just picked it up.

"He'll be expecting us." She pushed her hair back behind her ears as she looked up at him, and it looked like she was trying to smile but forgot how.

"Can I ask you something?" Now her face did soften, and she relaxed back against the car.

"Of course, Sam. Ask away." She tucked the phone into a pocket and just kept staring at him.

"You don't have to answer. I'll completely understand if—"

"Just ask the damned question, Samuel." She was smiling at him now, but it didn't reach her dark eyes. Eyes that had dark circles under them now and that looked even darker against the pale skin. Has she been eating? Sleeping?

"Dean doesn't talk about Hell, ever, so I have no idea what happened to him down there. I know he hasn't been the same since he came back, but I don't…I don't know how to help him." Brown eyes widened and then looked away before squeezing shut and looking up at him again.

"I can't speak for your brother. I don't know what happened to him." It was said with a small shake of her head, and Sam ran his hands through his hair in pure frustration.

"You both took deals, got dragged down by hellhounds, and put on the rack. You know what happened to him." Emma had flinched at the word rack, but now she was staring up at him. Her flat eyes were burning now as she pushed off from the car, and a slim finger jabbed against his chest.

"Every demon was different, but there was always pain. _Always_. Sometimes I was on a table, sometimes I was held down with hooks, and sometimes they let me down so I could fight a little. They laughed as they set me on fire, and I was conscious until I was ash. They froze my limbs and chipped away at me slowly. They stripped my skin off, inch by inch, and snacked on my bone marrow. I've watched a demon hold my brain in his hands, and I've been fed my own entrails. You can't imagine what it was like, to be tortured over and over and over. To be pulled completely apart and reassembled, just to start all over again. Two hundred years, Sam. Two hundred years of screaming and wanting it all to end, with no end in sight. And you know what the demons would say when I'd turn down their offer of getting off the rack?"

"What?" Emma's voice was all fury, but she was crying. Thick tears spilled down her cheeks and dropped off her chin, and she was shaking all over.

"Keep it up, little Gracie. You think this is pain? Should just strap you onto the Righteous Rack and show you what real suffering is all about."

"The…righteous rack?" There was a sick feeling in Sam's stomach now, churning and making him unsteady.

"The rack that the Righteous Man laid on, still slick with his blood and decorated with his flesh. The Righteous Rack is like a shrine in Hell, the place where the worst atrocities took place. I don't know what Dean went through, but I do know that it was a helluva lot worse than the garden variety torture I went through."

Worse than fire and hooks? Being skinned alive? After she was done, Emma slumped back against the old car and pressed her hands to her eyes. She was still shaking, and Sam could see her chest heaving as she tried to breathe. Her breaths were stuttering and wheezing, and her fingers were tangled in her hair. There was a quiet noise deep in her throat, like a dying animal. Sam's hands reached for her shoulders, just to calm her down, and she instantly lashed out. Pushed against him so that he wouldn't touch her. Then she ducked down into a squat to wrap her arms around her knees. Her breathing was still erratic, but Sam didn't try to touch her this time. Instead, he lowered himself to the ground and waited.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there, Emma curled in on herself as she tried to breathe and him sitting patiently in front of her at a loss for what to do. When she finally did look up, her entire face was wet and she looked lost. Like she didn't know where she was, or even who she was. Then her brows drew together and a tongue flicked out to wet her lips. She called his name quietly, like she wasn't sure he was real, and Sam held a hand out. He didn't want to touch her and set her off again. A shaking hand grabbed his, and Emma launched herself at him. Sam rocked back a little as he caught her, and he moved her around so that she was sideways in his lap and curled up against his chest.

"Sam?" He looked up and met green eyes, but Dean wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Emma.

"She's okay," he said instantly. He wasn't really sure if that was true, but she was sleeping now.

"Cas said she's been avoiding sleep, only had four hours since we left. Said that even then, she had a nightmare and reached for a weapon. We'll need to keep a close eye on her and strip her before she sleeps, for her own safety. Just until she gets a handle on things." Most hunters slept within easy reach of a weapon; it was what came natural when you killed supernatural beings for a living. Even Dean slept with a hand on his gun after coming back from Hell.

"Yeah, okay. I'm going to take her back to the house and try to get some sleep. Wake me when it's time to go?" Sam's legs were a little numb as he tried to stand up, and Dean steadied him with a hold on his elbow.

"I'll wake you two when it's time." Sam nodded and started walking off, but he stopped at the quiet sound of his name. He turned just enough to see his brother, who was looking at Emma's feet. "Don't ask anymore Hell questions, okay? I dealt with what happened down there, I'm over it, and Emma doesn't need to be reminded of it either. You got that?"

"You heard her?"

"I heard enough." Dean's eyes were closed off, but not angry.

"No more questions." Dean nodded, and Sam turned back around. Emma didn't stir as Sam made the walk back to their house or when he walked up the stairs, and she only huffed out a quiet sigh when he pulled back the blankets on his bed and sat her down. He needed to strip the weapons off her, and he needed to change himself. And get all the bags off the bed.

The bags went first, and he placed them next to the closet door. Emma needed something to sleep in, but he wasn't sure if it was okay to go through her things anymore. It'd been…well, not okay, but easier to sort through her belongings when she was dead. After a moment's indecision, Sam grabbed one of his tee shirts and tossed it onto the bed. That should work for tonight. Then he stripped off his clothes and pulled on a pair of sleep pants. Now for the hard part, which was removing all the weapons off of Emma so that she wouldn't accidentally hurt herself. Or him.

He slipped off her flipflops first and then reached up to undo the button on her pants. Tugging them off was easy since she was so still, and he found the first of the weapons strapped to her ankles. A small silver knife and a…pink taser? No, a sparkly pink taser. He placed the knife, taser, and ankle straps into the drawer on his nightstand. He left the drawer open because he had a feeling there were more. Emma mumbled something incoherent when he lifted her up enough to pull her shirt off, and she sighed happily when she was laid back down. A black holster was wrapped around her waist, and Sam squinted just above her hip. Were those brass knuckles? He carefully pulled the one on her right hip up enough to see, and it wasn't brass. Iron knuckles, one for each hand. That could come in handy with ghosts. The catch of the holster was under her bellybutton, and Sam quickly popped it and carefully pulled the holster free. A gun was tucked into the back of the holster…a dark pink 9mm with _Suzy_ written on the barrel.

The holster went into the drawer, and Sam thought he was finished. Then Emma twisted around a little so that her bra pulled up, and hazel eyes caught a glimpse of bandages. Cas didn't say anything about Emma being injured, so why did she have bandages? Sam carefully prodded the bottom of the bandages, just under the swell of her breast, and felt something hard. Definitely a weapon. Also, now that he was looking, he could see the spare clip tucked into her cleavage. This was embarrassing, but it had to be done. He quickly reached under the bandages to pull the knives free (of course it would be knives) and tried to ignore the heat of Emma's skin over his fingers. Once both knives were in the drawer, he reached forward with just two fingers to pull the spare clip free. Emma grunted in her sleep as it was pulled free, and Sam swiped a forearm across his forehead as he placed the clip in the drawer. From now on, the little hunter was doing this herself. Sam closed the drawer and grabbed the tee shirt he'd tossed over earlier, and Emma grumbled unhappily as he tugged it down. She flopped back onto the bed when he was finished and rolled onto her side so she could tuck herself into a ball, and Sam got up to turn the lights off. He was exhausted.

**EMMA**

"_Emma, Emma, Emma…you gotta lighten up, sugar." Emma blinked the room into focus and tried to place where she was. It was a kitchen, kinda small, but homey. The walls were light blue and the tiles had pictures of apples, and the old wooden table had small grooves cut into it in places. The fridge was a pea green color, and there were frilly white curtains hanging over the window. She knew this kitchen. Her and her mom lived here when she was nine up until she was fourteen, when Mom married her stepdad and they moved in with him. Her stepdad's house had been nicer and bigger, but this old kitchen had always felt like home. _

_She blinked again, and there was a man standing at the stove. He was tapping his fingers against the counter right next to the stove, and there was a delicious smell coming from inside the oven. The way the man was dressed made her think of lazy Sunday mornings. His boxers were dark red and looked soft, and the neck of his white wife beater looked a little stretched. His light brown hair was sticking up a little, like he'd just woken up, and the light coming out of the window made his hair look almost golden. Golden, like the eyes that were watching her. Emma glanced down at herself and felt her forehead wrinkle in confusion. She was wearing a huge dark blue shirt like a nightgown. It was comfortable, so whatever. She looked away from her own body and back to the man. He was pulling a tray out of the oven, and Emma breathed in. _

"_What is that?" _

"_Muffins. Want one? I normally don't share, but I'll make an exception." He winked at her as he grabbed a muffin, and Emma listened to the quiet shuffle of her feet against the tiles as she walked forward. She took the muffin that was offered to her and bit down. Chocolate. She ate the entire muffin without taking her eyes off the man, who stared back as he ate his own muffin. _

"_Gabriel?"_

"_Took ya long enough." The archangel rolled his eyes as he picked up another muffin, and Emma watched him bite into it with a peaceful smile. _

"_So, you're real? I'm not just making this up?" Gabriel offered his muffin to her, but he pulled it back when she reached up to take it. He shook his head and then held it out again, and this time it was Emma's turn to roll her eyes as she took a bite. She was being fed a chocolate muffin by an archangel in her childhood kitchen. _

"_I've been trying to reach you for _years_. Hell is really not good with inner soul communication." He said it lightly, like he was talking about a phone company and not endless torture. _

"_Were you tortured too?" Gabriel fed her another bite of muffin, and Emma didn't even bother with feeling annoyed this time. _

"_Your soul and my grace are so entwined that me being tortured is a given." Emma finally looked away from his eyes at that, and she didn't look up when the archangel huffed angrily. "You really need to get over that feeling guilty thing. Some people would say that I deserved a little torture. I have done my share of torturing. It was only a matter of time before I got my just desserts."_

"_You came to me for help, and I got you tortured. I'm allowed to feel a little guilty," Emma snapped. Golden eyes narrowed and darkened, and Emma felt cold hands tracing over her shoulders. Sulfuric breath was tickling the back of her neck._

"_It's okay, Emma. Yeah, being tortured for two centuries isn't exactly the highlight of my existence, but I'm over it." Sharp nails were clawing past the skin of her back and digging into the muscles on either side of her spine. _

"_I got out of Hell less than a week ago," Emma reminded him. The pain was getting harder to breathe through, and a dull blade was slowly carving away at a piece of her spine. _

"_I'm a fast healer. You gotta stop dwelling on it. Do you want these dreams forever?" Her spinal cord was severed; she couldn't move, but she could _feel_. _

"_No, I want it to stop." More sawing, slowly. Always so slow, to drag out the pain. _

"_Then look at me and make it stop. You're not in Hell, remember?" Emma didn't even realize she'd squeezed her eyes shut until they flew back open. Gabriel was still staring at her and holding out another muffin, like the chocolaty goodness could fix everything that happened. She took a bite even with hands still digging down into her spine. Who knows? Maybe it could. She wasn't in Hell. She was saved. Michael pulled her out and saved her. _

"_I'm not in Hell," Emma whispered. One of her hands slipped under the giant tee shirt she was wearing, and she pressed her fingers against the burn on her left hip. That was Michael's handprint, left behind when he pulled her free. She traced over the wide palm and long fingers as she stared into golden eyes, and the freezing cold at her back was gone. The pain was gone. Warmth chased away the last of the chills, and a different hand smoothed down her back. Her uninjured back._

"_You should be resting, Gabriel." The voice speaking above her head was quiet and deep, commanding. _

"_Can't just let her fall apart, can I? Someone has to keep her sane," Gabriel said as he popped another bite into his mouth. The warmth at her back moved closer as hands curled around her shoulders, and Emma leaned back into the solid strength behind her. _

"_She's strong."_

"_Well, duh, I know that. I also know what we went through for a couple of centuries before you found us, big brother. I'm not gonna just abandon her now." Gabriel was looking over her head, at who had to be Michael. She couldn't forget that quiet commanding voice, or the hands that pulled her free. _

"_I'm not asking you to abandon her. I'm asking you to save your strength for the transfer." Michael's hands tightened and relaxed against her shoulders, in something almost resembling a massage. _

"_We'll be strong enough, won't we, Emma?" Gabriel winked at her, and Emma felt herself smiling. _

"_We'll be strong enough," Emma repeated. Michael's hands tightened on her shoulders again before the left one moved down to grip her hip. The positioning was off since he was behind her now instead of in front of her, but it was still comforting to feel his hand against the mark he left. _

"_You are free now, Emma. Don't forget that." He squeezed her hip, so gently that she barely felt it, before the warmth at her back was gone. Gabriel rolled his eyes, again, before extending another muffin. _

"_Big brother is such a control freak. Muffin?"_

**SAM**

Sam was staring down at Emma when her eyes suddenly flew open, and he barely had time to pull himself back and avoid getting hit as she sat up. Her brown hair was all over the place, his shirt was twisted around her hips, and her cheeks had a slight flush to them as she stared at him. He'd been calling her name for the past five minutes, but she'd looked like she was in a deep sleep. There had been a moment last night, somewhere around two hours after he fell asleep, where she'd made quiet noises in her sleep. (Noises that reminded him of that time he found a dying cat behind the motel they were staying in; the cat died less than a minute after he found it, but it kept making quiet little mews until it was gone.) Then the sounds cut off, she licked her lips, and rolled onto her back. Now she looked wide awake and was just staring at him.

"Emma, are you okay?" She blinked and swiped a hand across her lips.

"Do we have any muffins?"

**EMMA**

Emma took a bite of the chocolate muffin and scowled down at the package it came out of. Packaged muffins don't have anything on Gabriel's muffins, and wasn't that a weird thought? Well, maybe not quite as weird as what just happened. Emma was so keyed up over her dream and in dire need of a shower, so she convinced Sam to join her in the bathroom. He kept his eyes closed as she stripped and jumped into the shower, and he'd listened as she detailed her entire dream. He said that who she described definitely sounded like the Gabriel he knew, so at least she wasn't going crazy. Then she apologized for her freak out, because it was easier to apologize for Hell flashbacks when she didn't have to look him in the eye. Then they'd switched locations, so he could shower and she could get dressed. She dressed in the bathroom as he told her what Dean said the day before, and she tried not to laugh when he talked about stripping her weapons off. She failed, and then promised to remove her own weapons from now on.

She left the bathroom before Sam got out, because the poor guy could probably use the privacy. She packed a small bag of clothes just in case she needed to change for anything and then went through the fun process of reattaching all of her weapons. She was wearing a new pair of black skinny jeans that she bought just because the ankle area was a little baggy, and her white tee shirt was soft and loose in the right places. It also said "Free Hugs" in rainbow letters, so that's always a plus. Who looks for weapons under a free hugs tee shirt? Once her flipflops were on, she skipped down to the kitchen and found a package of chocolate muffins in the pantry.

And here she is, scowling at muffins because they're not as good as her dream muffins. Is that because it was a dream? Or because the other muffins were baked by an archangel? Eh, either way, the other muffins were just better. She was washing the subpar muffins down with some chocolate milk when Dean made his way into the kitchen, and they were both silent as he fixed himself some Irish coffee and sat down across from her. Emma knows that he heard her little speech about the Righteous Rack, and she's really feeling embarrassed about that little outburst now. She really needs to work on all the moroseness. Still, it's hard to even meet the hunter's eyes. She's looking right at him though and waiting for him to speak.

"About yesterday…" Here it comes. He's gonna chew her out for blabbing about Hell time. "What gives you the right to…" This is going to hurt. Maybe he'll go easy on her if she cries. Think of dead kittens! "Douche up my angel?"

"Huh?" His face was serious and he was glaring straight at her, but the words weren't making any sense.

"You heard me! Cas is wearing skinny jeans and loafers! You douched up the angel!" Emma blinked and churned over the words. He's mad about Cas's _wardrobe_? Is this dude even real?

"They're not skinny jeans. Cas said those were too restricting." He'd nearly made one of the salesladies swoon at that, and Emma had agreed that maybe skinny jeans on an angel was a bad idea.

"He's still wearing tight jeans! And tee shirts! What'd you do with the trench coat?"

"Aw, c'mon, Dean. You gotta admit that he'll blend in better this way, and I'm sure that jeans and tee shirts are a lot more comfortable than that oversized suit he was wearing. The trench coat is safe, and he has a better fitting suit now if he needs it."

"Yeah?" Dean looked a little mollified at that, and Emma gave herself a mental pat on the back. Oh yeah. Dean totally has the hots for the trench coat.

"And he looks good in the new attire, right? More like the rest of us?" Emma could see Cas standing in the kitchen doorway, but Dean couldn't see him because his back was to the doorway.

"He won't stick out as much." Cas started to open his mouth, and Emma quickly rushed another question out before he could say anything.

"So he looks better in the new clothes?" Dean narrowed his eyes at her, but Emma just drank her chocolate milk all innocent like.

"Yeah, I guess so, but—"

"I knew you'd see it my way! Cas, why don't you tell Dean all about our shopping trip while I go grab Sam?" Emma took in the wide panicked look in Dean's eyes and embarrassed pride in Castiel's as she skipped from the kitchen, but she definitely took a moment to look Cas over first. Dark jeans that hugged his thighs, a soft light blue shirt that made his eyes somehow bluer, and still with the loafers. That angel is a beacon of temptation. Emma quickly scurried past him and made her way to the staircase.

She passed by the room that she first woke up in, and her feet stopped right outside the door. Michael was still inside, gathering his strength, and she shouldn't bother him. But…he stepped into her dream. Gabriel was already there and keeping Hell at bay, but Michael came too. She was inside the room and next to the bed before actually deciding to walk inside, and she looked down at the resting archangel. He was so still and unmoving, but his hand was warm when she touched it. Did he feel cold? He was shirtless and the house wasn't exactly cold, but there were still blankets to cuddle under. After poking around the room a bit, she found a blanket at the top of the closet and yanked it down. The thick fabric got caught on her head, and she struggled to smooth her hair back down after tugging it free.

The blanket made a soft whisper of sound as she let it flutter in the air before it touched down against Michael's still body. She moved down to his feet to fix the blanket and eyed the boots. Okay, yeah, he was an archangel, but sleeping in boots had to be uncomfortable. Nobody should be uncomfortable in sleep. (She would know, because she slept in a bra last night.) Slim fingers made quick work of the laces, and she gently pulled the boots off and set them next to the bed. Then she tucked the blanket under his feet and carefully tucked it in next to his body. Once she reached his shoulders, she made sure the blanket was tucked under his chin and wouldn't fall off. There, that ought to keep him comfortable until he's all rested up.

"I'm gonna be strong, for Gabriel and for you." His head turned towards her voice, and Emma kept herself completely still. She didn't mean to wake him up. His eyes didn't open though; his head was just turned on the pillow so that he was facing her. Emma reached up to smooth the hair off his forehead, and then she just kept running her fingers through the thick black strands. He was worried about Gabriel, and he thought she was strong. Emma wanted nothing more than to prove him right. She owed it to him. And to Gabriel.

"Thank you, Michael." She brushed his hair back one last time and then hurried out of the room. She's got more important things to do today than coddling an archangel in a self-induced coma. Like getting a voodoo tattoo.

* * *

**Finis: **I have a lot of feelings about this chapter. _So many feelings_. I also feel like I need to discuss a few things. If you were completely satisfied with this chapter or have something to do, feel free to skip this little Author's Note.

I know some people don't like dialogue, so I'm sure Mo's speech was pretty boring/annoying. I absolutely love dialogue and long-winded speeches, so, yeah. Speeches. I don't plan on writing in Mo's POV much later on, but he will have a few solo scenes, and I want people to get used to the way he sees things. He's not just some demon. He was an angel once, and he has the best info on the good ol' days. Since he was there. Hence, speech. This is his last one for a while (I haven't written anymore for him yet, so it could be the last one period).

Speaking of Mo's speech, his ideas of Heaven are like my little headcanon. Including their characterizations and how they each reacted to humans. Oh, and no one will ever be able to convince me that Gabriel and Balthazar wouldn't be besties.

Next up on the list, the Righteous Rack. Come on, Emma was in Hell for two hundred years and didn't break. John Winchester was in Hell for at least one hundred and didn't break, but Dean broke in thirty years? Yeah, my actual headcanon (not just for this story) is that Dean went through some mega torture. Like, worse than what anyone else had to go through because they were in a hurry to break him. So, yeah. Dean is a BAMF and doesn't break easily, which means something extra had to be going on.

And while I'm on a babbling spree, do you know why Gabriel's death really bothered me? Michael and Lucifer, two archangels, were going to have a fight so big that it was going to wipe out half the world. I know that they're the two strongest, but Gabriel's still an archangel. An archangel that was killed in under five minutes just like any other angel. If an archangel could be killed so easily, then Michael should've been able to kill Lucifer without destroying half the planet.


	8. Chapter 8

**TIB:** Hello! I don't have any warnings for this chapter, but I do have some dedications!

**KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl: **Your reviews always make me smile! I'm so glad you're liking the story! I think you'll like this chapter, because it's got a little bit of our favorite archangel in it!

**momotone: **Thank you so much for the review! Are you an Adam fan? Because I am and I really want to bring him into the story at some point. (fingers crossed!)

**Handara: **Thanks for the review! I promise, Michael will be awake _very_ soon.

* * *

**Chapter Eight  
****Eye Candy**

* * *

**EMMA**

"All I'm saying is that maybe you should try branching out a little," Emma remarked. Dean glanced over his shoulder just long enough to send her a glare that was three parts offended and one part pissed before turning back to look at the road.

"I don't like her, Sammy. She's gotta go," Dean said as he took a turn. Emma huffed and reached forward to flick the back of Dean's ear.

"One time, Dean, c'mon. I've got some of Cas's favorite music on here," Emma pleaded.

"Cas likes my music, don't you?" Emma could see Dean looking at Cas in the rearview, and wow, those two do not know the meaning of casual glances. Every time their eyes connect, the air inside the Impala gets a little bit…steamier.

"I do," the angel said in his deep gravelly voice. Well, that macho voice isn't fooling Emma! The angel is still wearing loafers, after all.

"Tell the truth, Cas, you like my music too." Cas looked away from Dean's eyes (Emma was surprised they hadn't wrecked yet) to look at her.

"I did enjoy listening to Emma's music as well."

"Ha! Told ya so! Now, quit being such a baby and put the iPod back in!"

"No!"

"I will come over this seat and do it myself!"

"I will tie you to the roof!" Sam was looking down at a book without registering what was on the page and trying not to laugh, and Cas was just smiling serenely as Emma and Dean bickered. They were thirteen hours down, only about three to go. Dean slept for the first six hours and let Sam drive, so Cas and Emma have been stuck in the back the entire time. When Dean woke up, it was to Emma's iPod instead of any of his tapes, and he'd banned them all from touching his radio for the rest of…forever. Emma didn't bother arguing the point up until thirty minutes ago after hearing Metallica for the tenth time, but Dean's a stubborn one.

"Sam?" Emma's voice was a quiet pout, but Sam just shook his head.

"I've been trying for years. Just let it go," the tall hunter said with a resigned sigh.

"That's right, Emma, let it go. Rules of the road. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!"

"But I'm in the backseat!"

"Don't worry, Emma. We will have to go on our own road trip and then we can listen to what we want," Cas said diplomatically. The statement was followed by Dean's laughter abruptly stopping and Sam's finally escaping.

"That's it! What'd you do to the angel?!" Emma noticed that he wasn't saying _"my angel"_ anymore. Maybe that in the kitchen had been a slip-up. Did Dean even know he'd said that earlier? The man had been running on no sleep, so it was possible.

"I gave him options, and I think he chose very wisely. Yes, Cas, we will definitely go on a road trip and listen to all kinds of musical goodness," Emma said with a wide smile. She knew Cas was just riling Dean up, because he was staring intently at the rearview mirror.

"I can't trust anyone anymore," Dean grumbled. He can grumble all he wants, because he's still sneaking looks at the smiling angel sitting next to her. It's funny, because Emma saw Cas smile a pretty good bit while they got to know one another. All of those smiles were barely there, small little curves to his lips, but now? Now his smiles are definitely noticeable, and Emma's not stupid. She knows those full smiles are because of a certain hunter stuck in the eighties.

"Now he's going to sulk for the rest of the drive," Sam said in an even tone. Emma leaned up against the back of the seat and buried her hands in the younger Winchester's hair. His hair is just so shaggy, and thick, and _soft_. Why does a guy have better hair than her? It's so unfair.

"I do not sulk," Dean said…sulkily. Emma twisted a lock of Sam's hair around her finger and snorted back a laugh.

"Is he really going to be like this for the rest of the drive?" Emma asked. Sam was moving back into her hand now, so Emma gently scrubbed her nails against his scalp before moving back down to twirl his hair some more.

"Dean does not sulk," Cas stated.

"Exactly." They were staring at each other again, and Emma tilted forward to bury her nose against the back of Sam's neck. If she didn't, she was going to start laughing. Or possibly choke on all the tension in the air. This was gonna be a long three hours.

**SAM**

"This is the place?" Sam leaned back against the closed door of the Impala and looked up at the house across the street. As far as houses go, it's completely normal looking. White with dark green shutters, a wooden swing on the front porch, and a nicely trimmed front lawn. Emma was standing right next to him, with a small smile on her face as she looked up at the house.

"What were you expecting, Deano? Some place all dark and creepy? Nah, Grayson is a normal and functional member of society. He just has an unusual hobby," Emma shrugged. Dean popped the trunk open, and Sam followed behind Emma to where Dean was pulling out a bag with a bone in it. The bone of a saint, and it was a gift.

"You sure about this?" Sam looked over at Dean, who carefully slammed the trunk. Cas was standing at Dean's side and just staring at the house.

"A little extra protection never hurt."

"There's the spirit! Now let's get to it." Emma led the way to the house, and her small fist knocked twice. Less than a minute later, the door popped open. Emma was immediately engulfed in a big bear hug, and Sam blinked at the man. He was _huge_. He was two inches taller than him, which put him at six-seven, and he was just big. His skin was a dark brown, and his black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. He looked like an average businessman in gray slacks and a black button-up, but the sleeves were rolled up to show dark shapes against his arms. When his head lifted, Sam caught sight of the marks on either side of his neck.

"Are these my new customers?" He had a soft voice, and his dark brown eyes swept over all of them.

"This is Sam and Dean, and their friend Castiel. Don't worry, Castiel isn't getting anything."

"You remember the rules?" The big guy was looking down at Emma now, and she nodded.

"Of course. So, ready to get this party started?" The big guy smiled and gestured them inside, and the party of four followed him down into the basement. The door was closed behind them, and Grayson explained that it was to contain both the magic and the sounds. The basement looked surprisingly comfortable for being a basement. There was a couch and some chairs set off to one side, a fridge, a large workbench with a sink, and a table.

"Will you go first, Emma?" Grayson asked. Emma nodded and passed over the bone, and Grayson popped open the bag to lightly run his fingers over it. He must have been satisfied, because he placed a large hand on Emma's head before smiling and walking off to place the bone in a filing cabinet in the corner.

"Yeah, thought it might be best to show the boys how it's done."

"I'll leave you to it." Emma grabbed up a small plastic bag from on top of the fridge and pulled her shirt off. Grayson was pulling out sheets of plastic and laying them around the table. Emma was stripping off her waist holster now and removing the knives under her breasts while Grayson laid another sheet of plastic on top of the table. Emma was bare now except for a plain black sports bra and a pair of dark pink panties, but the almost nudity didn't seem to bother her. She twisted her hair up on top of her head and smiled over at where they were sitting on the couches.

"First things first, you gotta get the shock. It shows Grayson where to put the symbols," Emma said as she held her arms out. Grayson chanted quietly under his breath as he ran his palms over Emma's body, and the little hunter stayed perfectly still as he touched every inch of her. Once he was done, Emma bowed her head and just waited. Grayson placed a small taser against the back of Emma's neck, and she tensed up with a quiet groan as the shockwaves moved through her.

"We will continue down your right thigh," Grayson said quietly. Sam looked at where Emma's protection tattoos stopped, on her right hip, and saw a…something just under them. It was blurry, like he couldn't really see the space clearly. Emma slumped to the side, and the much bigger man easily lifted her up and placed her on the plastic covered table. "Would you like to pay now or afterwards?"

"Now. Will mine be enough to pay for theirs too?" Pay? Emma just gave him the bone, so what else was left?

"Blood from a resurrected body containing a soul from the Pit? Yours will be enough for theirs as well, Emma." Oh, right, Sam forgot about that part. He watched on as Grayson meticulously took some of Emma's blood, and it was more than he was expecting. Instead of taking a few drops or even a vial, Grayson took a pint and a half. Emma never complained once, not even when the needle was pulled out.

"Go easy on the panties, yeah? They're from Victoria Secret."

"Your undergarments will not be harmed. Would one of you like to help hold her steady?" Sam looked over at Dean before getting to his feet and walking over to where Emma was stretched out on the table. Grayson came over with two stools, and Sam thankfully settled onto one. Grayson drug a small table over to where the other stool was and then sat down, and Emma looked up at him. Her brown eyes were wide but calm, and she reached both hands forward to grab his. He tangled their fingers together and waited to see what would happen.

"Thanks, Sam." Then the blowtorch started up, and Emma twisted her head around so she could bite into her forearm. The skin from her hip to halfway down her thigh bubbled up and popped under the heat, and blood streaked down Emma's forearm from between her teeth. Her screams sounded strangled, but she held still. The fire didn't last for long and then Grayson was dipping his hands into a bowl of blood. Emma hissed as the blood was smeared over the burns, and the side of her panties were missing but still clinging to her skin. Almost like the piece that had been set on fire was just invisible.

"She will be healed in a few moments." Emma pried her teeth out of her arm and smiled up at him with bloody lips.

"There is no way that is sanitary," Sam heard Dean say over his shoulder. He was dragging a chair behind him, and he settled it at Emma's head and plopped into it. Cas stood between Sam's stool and Dean's chair, and Emma turned her head to look at both of them.

"It's done for purification," Grayson explained. Emma took slow and even breaths as the skin of her thigh healed (even the blood disappeared), and Grayson stepped forward with a bone in his blood-free hand. A really sharp looking bone. "Thrice blessed bone of a murderer."

"Something about balance," Emma muttered. The sharpened bone carved deep into her thigh, and Sam was starting to understand what the plastic was for. Cleaning up this much blood couldn't be easy. The blood from Emma's skin was gone, but small puddles were on the table and on the floor. It was hard to tell what Grayson was carving, because of all the blood and fuzziness, but it looked Enochian. Tiny Enochian characters spread from the top of her hip to halfway down her thigh, but it was hard to focus on them. It was even harder to focus on them when Emma was making soft grunting sounds as the bone kept carving away. Once he was done carving, more blood was washed over the area. Grayson moved off to wash his hands again, and Sam watched as the skin healed. The blood disappeared to reveal thick outlines of the characters, like the skin was bubbled up.

"Ugh, I hate this part," Emma groaned. Like it could get any worse? Grayson sat back down and picked up a small rectangular bar. It was pure silver and sharp, and Sam remembered Emma talking about this part now. Grayson quickly scrubbed the bar across the raised symbols, and Sam was surprised that there wasn't any blood this time. Instead the skin was scraped clean and smooth, like nothing had ever happened.

"Now for the easy part. Almost over now, Emma." Grayson turned to pick up a tattoo gun, and Emma nearly sagged in relief.

"This is my favorite part. The ink is special too. Mixed with holy water and the blood of a virgin, for that extra kick," she said quietly.

"No one is harmed to attain the blood," Grayson added as he started. Sam relaxed on the stool as Emma nearly went boneless, and Dean and Cas were quiet as they all watched Grayson work. He moved faster than what normal tattoos took, but that wasn't surprising at this point. Dark swirls that matched the ones on her ribcage moved down her thigh as the Enochian symbols were revealed, and Sam could have sworn that Emma even fell asleep at one point. Which is possible, since she just donated over a pint of blood and then some. Once Grayson was done with the tattooing, he poured water over the area and gently dabbed it dry.

"Finally," Emma groaned as Sam helped her off the table. The sheet of plastic was removed and replaced with a clean one, and Sam looked over at his brother.

"I'll go next."

"If you do not want to stay, there is a diner down the street. The food is delicious, and you can bring some back for Sam and Emma." Grayson's voice was calm, and Sam kept looking at Dean. It wasn't a bad idea. No point in him and Cas sticking around. Sam nodded, and Dean looked over at Cas.

"I could go for some pie. You coming, Cas?" The angel looked at Sam, looked at Emma, and finally nodded at Dean. Sam waited until the basement door closed behind them before stripping off his shirt.

"C'mon, Sam, give a girl a show." Emma was sitting on the stool he'd been on, still in just her bra and panties, with a tired smile on her face. Sam just looked at her and then hastily pulled his pants off. Emma booed him and crossed her arms, and the sports bra she was wearing didn't do a thing to reduce the size of her chest.

"Which symbols do you want, Sam?"

"Everything that Emma has." He knew it was going to hurt, but he could deal. If he was going to do this, he was going to go all the way. Protection from everything possible. Grayson just nodded and started chanting as he placed his palms on Sam's face. Once he moved down, Sam locked his eyes with Emma's. He didn't look away after Grayson finished or when he felt Grayson come up behind him, and his teeth locked as the electric shocks pulsed through him.

"It will go here." Grayson traced a finger in a circle between his shoulder blades, a big circle. When he was done tracing, he pressed his palm flat against the surface. So the tattoo was going to be a little bigger than Sam's own hand. Okay, he could handle that. Then Grayson's hands traced down each shoulder blade in an arch. Okay, a little bigger than what he was expecting. "Once I start, I will not stop. Do you still want this?"

"Yes." His answer was immediate, and he carefully made his way over to the table. He was getting ready to lay down when Emma called out his name, and curious hazel eyes watched as she shimmied her way up the table. She sat sideways at the head of the table and patted her newly tattooed thigh, and Sam smiled at her. All he did was hold her hands, and here she was offering to actually hold him. He pressed his cheek against her thigh as he laid down and spread his arms out. One went around her back to grab her opposite thigh, where he could just barely feel the scar from her first grindylow hunt. His other arm curved over her legs, just under her knees, to grab the table. Slim fingers reached down to touch his hair, and Sam melted into the touch just as he heard the blowtorch start.

Sam's sure that he's had more painful injuries, but it was hard to think about them when he was being set on fire and carved into with a bone. Emma kept running her hands through his hair and over his arm, and she talked the entire time. She told him about taking Cas shopping and how the angel was actually really picky when it came to clothes and completely oblivious to all the looks he got. Apparently Emma, three salesgirls, and one helpful shopper all judged the clothes that Cas tried on to help him pick out some new outfits. Emma laughed quietly as she explained about how the youngest salesgirl looked ready to pass out every time Cas came out of the dressing room, and she really laughed when she got to the part where Cas didn't want to take his loafers off so she could pay for them.

When the carving started, she was telling him about how Cas won every game of I-Spy. Then she told him about the fun times with her iPod as Grayson scrubbed silver over most of his upper back. By the time Grayson turned the tattoo gun on, Emma was talking quietly about seeing Krissy again. If only for a few minutes. Krissy was taller and still healthy, her hair had been cut, and she apparently liked bright colors just like her big sister. Grayson wasn't quite done when she finished the big road trip story, so she told him about how she'd taken Michael's boots off and covered him with a blanket. She sounded a little embarrassed about it, but Sam thought it was sweet. Grayson was putting the last touches on the tattoo when she finished that, and Emma told him that it looked badass.

"It is a work of art, Emmaline."

"A badass work of art. Go take a look, Sam." Grayson stayed by his side as he stiffly moved off the table, probably just in case he fell over, but he was able to stay on his own two feet. Emma smiled at him from the table as he was directed to a mirror, and Sam twisted around to take a look at the new addition to his body.

The circle was big and took up the space between his shoulder blades, with an Enochian symbol in the center. There were dark swirls just like in Emma's tattoo, but with sharper edges, and anti-everything symbols mixed in. More of those sharp spirals branched out over his shoulder blades, and that's where the rest of the Enochian symbols were. Huh, it kind of looked like wings coming from the circle. It wasn't bad. He wasn't sure if it was badass, so he was just going to take Emma's word on that one. When he turned around, Emma looked like she was asleep sitting up.

"Let's get you dressed." Sam picked Emma up and moved her onto the stool so Grayson could exchange the plastic sheet, and Sam was really glad that all of the blood on him seemed to magically disappear. It made all of this much easier. Emma held still and helped him a little by wiggling back into her jeans, but she wouldn't let him put her shirt on until all of her weapons were back in place. Sam did the waist holster while she applied the knives, and he reattached the knife and taser to her ankles. Once she was dressed and somewhat sitting upright on the stool, he moved to pull his jeans up. He was just buttoning them up when the basement door opened, and he held still as Dean and Cas walked down the stairs.

"Not bad, Sammy. Got a tribal feel to it," Dean said as he dropped a bag of food on the couch. Sam tugged on his tee shirt, his plaid shirt, and left his jacket off for the moment. Emma was still dozing where she sat, so Sam scooped her up and walked over to the couch. Her eyes sluggishly opened as he sat down with her in his lap, and she made a happy sound as her nostrils flared.

"Mmm, food. I take everything back, Dean. You're awesome," she said as she reached for the bag. Her arms were too short to actually reach it, so Sam took pity on her and grabbed it. He dropped the food into her lap, and Emma happily dug in. Dean placed two water bottles on the ground next to Sam's feet, and Emma offered him a salad. After he took it and the plastic fork that came with it, she tore into her sandwich.

"Alright, my turn." Now it was Cas's turn to sit on the stool next to the table, and Dean quickly stripped off his clothes while Emma wolf whistled. Dean just grinned, all cockiness, and held his arms out for Grayson. A few minutes later, he was getting shocked and Grayson was walking around him.

"Ah, Dean Winchester, you would be difficult. If Emma wasn't such a friend, I would require more payment."

"What are you talking about?" Emma had huffed at the mention of more payment, so she must not be too worried.

"It will go here, mostly unseen. I'll have to use very special ink on you. Do you know how hard it is to find angel feathers?"

"What are the feathers for?" Emma asked around a mouthful of bread and turkey.

"The ink. It is made with the blood of the damned and an angel feather. It will take me a moment to make."

"Use this." When Sam looked over, Cas was holding a single gray feather. Dean looked lost, Emma looked like she was watching a soap opera, and Grayson smiled gently.

"Thank you, Castiel." The man moved over to his workbench, and Sam turned back to his salad. By the time he finished eating, Emma was asleep on his chest and Dean was on the table. Well, he already knew what was coming, so catching a little sleep couldn't hurt. He leaned his head back against the couch, tightened his arms around the hunter in his arms, and nodded off.

**EMMA**

"_Nice digs, sugar bear." The familiar voice was coming from behind her, and Emma turned on her heel to see Gabriel. He was sitting on a soft brown couch, this time in dark jeans and a blue plaid shirt, and he was smiling at her. This was Grayson's basement, where she fell asleep at. At least, she's pretty sure she fell asleep. She was minus a lot of blood and Sam was hotter than a furnace, so…yeah, sleep._

"_Like it?" Gabriel was looking at her bare thigh, which didn't make much sense because she's pretty sure that she fell asleep with her pants on. She should know, because Sam's the one that yanked them up her legs. _

"_It'll keep you safe, so yes. Looks good on you." Gabriel's smile was gentle, and Emma walked forward so that she could sit next to him on the couch. He was carefully unwrapping Hershey kisses, and he offered one to her after she was sitting. Emma took it and popped it into her mouth. _

"_Did you see Sam's? His looks ah-mazing," she said with a bright smile. _

"_Yes, I saw Samsquatch's. Like the Gigantor needs any more sex appeal," Gabriel said with a huff. Emma buried her toes under his denim covered thigh and tried not to smile too big. _

"_He really is too sexy for his shirt, huh? He should be shirtless, all the time, but he's too shy. It's really unfair."_

"_Tell me about it, sugar. Waste of good eye candy if you ask me."_

"_I agree. Now, why are you here? It's not just to talk about the hotness of the younger Winchester, is it?"_

"_But we haven't even scratched the surface on that topic!" Emma just looked at the archangel until he huffed and popped another piece of candy into his mouth. "One of those Enochian symbols is like a dream catcher. It's not foolproof, because dreams can change and shift, but it should keep the worst of it out."_

"_Still doesn't explain why you're here."_

"_I'm getting stronger, now that we're out of Hell, and it's been a lonely two hundred years. Why shouldn't I talk to the soul I'm living in?" Emma met those golden eyes and processed that. She's got a protection symbol against bad dreams and a lonely archangel. _

"_Fair enough. Can you see everything I see? Like when I'm awake?"_

"_Oh, you mean little things like you zeroing in on hipbones?" Emma felt herself blush and had to look away from his amused eyes. _

"_A girl can look a little."_

"_But hipbones? Really?"_

"_You can't tell me that you've never had the urge to lick a good hipbone," Emma pointed out. _

"_Not my little brother's!" Okay, so, Cas did have some really good lickable hipbones. Still, those hipbones were property of Dean Winchester. Whether he realized it yet or not. _

"_What about Dean's little brother?" Gabriel thoughtfully sucked on the small piece of chocolate as he thought, and Emma opened her mouth to receive her own piece of candy like it was the most natural thing in the world._

"_Fair enough."_

"_Aha! Knew it! It's okay, I won't tell Sam that a certain little someone has a crush." Emma's smile was easy and teasing, and Gabriel glared over at her. _

"_He's too tall to crush on."_

"_Keep telling yourself that. You know you wanna piece of—"_

"_Gabriel, Emma, you should both be resting." Emma jumped at the sound of a new voice and actually blushed when she realized that she was only wearing a tee shirt. _

"_No need to get bashful, Emma. Michael built that body, cell by cell," Gabriel said with a wicked smirk. _

"_Uh, hi," Emma said with a little wave. Michael was standing just in front of the couch, and Emma couldn't help but notice that his upper body was covered by the blanket she tucked around him before leaving._

"_Why are you not resting?" Michael asked with a pointed look at his brother. _

"_I am resting. Are you jealous that we didn't invite you?" Emma lightly kicked Gabriel's thigh and smiled up at the older archangel. The look on Michael's face was mostly neutral, but Emma could see a glare hiding just behind his eyes. He took a few steps forward, and Emma tipped her head back as a warm palm cupped her cheek. She stared up into dark hazel eyes as she felt Gabriel squeezing her ankle, and she knew the second that Gabriel was gone. _

"_I'm sorry for…Gabriel," she mumbled quietly. She wasn't really sure how else to apologize for the little dream quests. Her apology must have worked though, because Michael smiled gently down at her as his fingertips pressed behind her ear. _

"_You do not need to apologize for my troublesome little brother. We will talk again soon, Emma, and…thank you for the blanket." Michael was still staring at her when her eyes slid closed and everything melted away. _

**SAM**

"You're welcome!" Sam looked down at the newly awake hunter in his lap and tried not to laugh. She'd bolted upright without warning, arms flailing, the moment he touched her shoulder.

"What am I welcome for?" Sam asked with a barely there smile. Emma blinked, looked around in confusion, and then glanced up at him.

"Archangels are really annoying, and I hope that both of them can hear me right now," Emma grumbled.

"You're hearing archangels?" Dean was standing in front of the couch now, with his jeans on and his shirts in his hands. Emma looked up at him, and Sam felt the way she tensed as she looked at him. Yeah, Sam couldn't help looking too. Emma and Sam both had black marks against their skin, dark tattoos that really stood out, but not Dean. His protection symbols covered from the top of his right arm, wrapped completely around his bicep, and stopped above his elbow. Emma's symbols were connected by dark swirls, Sam's by thick and sharp spirals, and Dean's were connected by thin straight lines. The biggest difference wasn't the style. It was the coloring. Dean's tattoos were white, nearly flesh colored, and seemed to blend in with his skin.

"Dude, that looks…awesome! Hey, why couldn't I have white tattoos?" Emma asked.

"I create what I see," Grayson said as he cleaned up.

"Focus, Emma. Hearing archangels?" Emma looked away from Grayson to Dean, who was now pulling his tee shirt on over his head.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, but just when I'm asleep. And just Gabriel and Michael." Emma quickly outlined the dream, but Sam had the feeling she was leaving something out. It wasn't because she was twitchy or had any tells; she just kept trying to hold back laughter, especially whenever she looked at him.

"This is good news. It means that Gabriel is growing stronger," Cas said once she was through.

"Yeah, but Michael keeps popping up because he says that Gabriel isn't resting whenever he goes dream walking."

"I believe that Michael is worrying too much." It sounded a little funny being said in Cas's gruff no-nonsense voice, but Emma just nodded along seriously.

"Emma." The little hunter perked up at Grayson's voice, and she slowly made her way out of Sam's lap. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, probably from the blood loss, and she leaned back against Sam as she smiled at Grayson.

"Thanks, as always. If you ever need anything, just give me a call."

"The same for you, Emma." They said quick goodbyes, and Sam had to nearly carry Emma out of the house and across the street where the car was parked. He was still feeling a little tired himself, and he didn't know how Dean was still standing. Dean looked almost energized though, so maybe it'd be safe for him to drive.

"Hey, Cas, you can take shotgun. I'm going to ride in the back with Emma."

"Sam?" He looked across the top of the car at his big brother, and he smiled to show that he was okay. Because he was.

"Just a little tired. I'll take over if you need a break." Dean nodded and slid into the driver's seat, and Sam crowded into the backseat after Emma. Once everyone was situated and more or less comfortable, Dean drove off.

"We going home now?" Emma slurred against his shoulder. Home…Home was the house that he built with his brother. Was that Emma's home now too?

"Yeah, we're going home now."

* * *

**Finis: **I almost didn't post this, because I just posted a chapter, but this one's really simple and I get busy during the week sometimes. So, here's a nice little chapter before the next big one!

To explain Grayson's tattooing process: _magic_. That's all I've got. Also, I know I was overly descriptive, but that's because I really want people to be able to picture the different tattoos. I have a really good mental image of what they look like, and I _**hate**_ that I can't even draw a stick figure right because I would love to actually show what the tattoos look like. I just wasn't blessed with artistic ability though. [Side Note: The only reason Emma is so lazy in this chapter is because of the donated blood. When I donate just a regular pint, I'm good for about a half hour and then nap for the rest of the day, so I based her lethargicness off of that.]


	9. Chapter 9

**TIB: **Yes, another chapter already. I told myself I'd wait until I'd written a little more, but I got my Supernatural tattoo today and just really wanted to update. So, update! And my foot still stings a bit, so I'll go back to writing after it calms down.

**Handara: **I love writing Michael, because I can make him a big tough guy or I can wrap him in a blanket and make him all cuddly. As for Gabriel and Emma, they really are soulmates! Thank you so much for the review!

**KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl: **All reviews make me smile, because it's still a shock that people actually like reading my work, but your reviews are always detailed and I love it. I'm glad you think the characters are lifelike! I have an extreme fear of writing a Mary-Sue. I'm not sure why, but there ya go. Writing descriptions for things like tattoos is so hard! I can picture everything just fine, but words escape me sometimes. Thank you for the review!

**Guest: **Yeah, that's the pairing I'm working towards. It just might take me a little while it actually get there. Thank you for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Nine  
****If It's Written In Icing, It Has To Be True**

* * *

**EMMA**

"_This is starting to get a little ridiculous," Emma grumbled as her dream formed around her. This was a house that she'd squatted in when she turned twenty-one. It was a special house, because it was clean and it was where she drunk her first legally bought whiskey. The house had been fully furnished but foreclosed on, and the giant waterbed had made her giggle like a crazy person when she was drunk. Gabriel was laying spread eagle on the bed now, in a silky red robe and silky black pants, but there was still plenty of space left. Emma was wearing the orange shorts and purple tank top she'd fallen asleep in, and the silk tickled across her skin as she settled herself next to Gabriel. _

"_Don't you like our little nighttime meetings?"_

"_It's two in the afternoon. I'm in my pajamas because I'm going stir crazy. You know that we're on lockdown now until Michael and Balthazar wake up, right? It's been a _week_." There was a time when Emma would have loved to stay in one spot for a week, but they were all starting to go a little crazy. After they got back from Grayson's, all three hunters agreed that it would be better to just stay at the house until the grace transfer was over. No more hunts or field trips. _

"_Read a book, watch a movie, play a game." Gabriel pressed his heels against the bed so it would rock, and Emma felt her body relax as the bed rolled under them. _

"_I tried to teach Cas how to play Twister, but Dean started yelling about corrupting babies. Doesn't matter because Sam and his jumbo limbs kept winning anyway."_

"_Yet you still sleep with him."_

"_You know there's only three guest rooms, right? Michael's in one, your body and Balthazar have the best one, and I am not sleeping in the small guest room that doesn't have its own bathroom when I can sleep in Sam's room. For such a big guy, he's a really good cuddler."_

"_Like a teddy bear?"_

"_More like a heater with nice hair."_

"_Deano doesn't mind you shacking up with his baby bro?" Emma tossed a leg over Gabriel's so she could feel the way the silk moved against her skin, and she felt Gabriel's fingertips tracing patters over her bare arm. It was comforting, relaxing. _

"_He kept making jokes, but I found out how to shut him up real quick."_

"_Do tell."_

"_Thought you could see everything?"_

"_Not everything. I have to rest sometime." Emma shrugged at that and moved onto her side. She tangled her legs around Gabriel's and sighed when she felt his arm wrap around her back. _

"_The kitchen is right across from the living room, and I know that Dean can't stay away from the kitchen for more than an hour without breaking out into hives. So, I convinced Cas that he really needed to keep his vessel limber. By doing yoga. I thought Dean was going to choke on his own tongue, because Cas really doesn't need any help limbering up." Gabriel's laugh was soft and warm as it filled the room, and Emma pressed her face against his silk covered side. _

"_I'm proud of you, sugar. I really did pick the right vessel." Emma huffed at that but didn't say anything. She still kinda hates herself for dragging Gabriel down into Hell with her, but there's nothing she can do about that now. It's done and over with. Hell thoughts still pop up at the weirdest times, like three days ago when she was doing the dishes and got a flash of drowning in her own blood, but she's handling it. She has a feeling that Gabriel has a little something to do with that. Well, him and her little handprint. Sometimes when the thoughts are really strong, she presses against that burned imprint to remind her that she's free now. _

"_I'm gonna miss you, Gabriel," she sighed. _

"_Miss me? Where are you—"_

Emma jolted awake and stared up into dark hazel eyes. Not Sam's eyes, but they were really similar. Michael's eyes. Michael was awake! Michael was awake and gently gripping her shoulder, and Emma blinked sleepily up at him. Well, this was new. Normally when she fell asleep on the couch in the living room (usually while watching something on that ridiculously large TV), it was Dean that woke her up and told her to come eat. Now she was wishing that she fell asleep in something better that her worn-out orange shorts and bleach stained purple tank top.

"Uh, hi." Oh shit, did she drool in her sleep? She quickly wiped her hand across her mouth but didn't feel anything, so at least that was one embarrassment she didn't have to worry about.

"Hello, Emma. I'm sorry to wake you, but we should all talk." Michael's hand was warm against her shoulder, and it took Emma a moment to process his words. All talk…oh! Was it time?

"Yeah, sure. I'll just go get dressed. Meet in the kitchen?" He let his hand fall away, and Emma tipped her head back as he stood to his full height.

"That's acceptable." Emma gave him one last smile as she slipped around him, and she quickly took the stairs and nearly ran down the hallway to Sam's room. Well, it was partially her room at this point, even though all of her clothes were still in bags. She also had all her shower stuff in a little plastic bag, so she didn't girly-up Sam's shower.

"Emma?" Sam looked over at her as she closed the door behind her, and he looked perfectly at ease. He was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, no shoes, which was practically naked compared to his normal layers. He was still doing better than her.

"Michael's awake. It's time for a family meeting," she smiled as she dashed over to the closet. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, and she quickly stripped off what passed for her pajamas. By this point, Sam is used to seeing her in her underwear. He barely even blushes now. The plain denim jeans easily moved up her legs, and she was still zipping them as she tugged on a plain green tee shirt. Her hair was a lost cause, so she rolled it up into a messy ball and called it a day.

"Do you think it's time?" Sam asked as they walked out into the hallway.

"Hope so. One more Gabriel dream, and I just might lose it," Emma said with an easy smile. She was actually going to miss dreaming about the archangel. He made her feel safe and relaxed, and he normally had some kind of chocolate nearby.

"Took you two long enough. Have to unbraid Sam's hair?" Dean asked as they walked inside. He was sitting at the head of the kitchen table and sipping at his cup of coffee, which was probably spiked. Cas was sitting to his right, with Michael next to him. Sam took the chair on Dean's left, which put him across from Cas, and Emma sat next to Sam. She looked across the table at Michael, who glanced at her before moving his eyes to the doorway. Emma twisted around to get a look, and she raised a brow at the man striding inside.

"I'm bloody starving. The next time you want to honor someone, forget that I exist," the man grumbled as he stalked across the kitchen. He went straight for the fridge and pulled out the big bowl of potato salad that Dean made last night, and Emma watched with wide eyes as he grabbed a spoon and dug right in. Huh. He had to be the angel she hadn't met yet, Balthazar. She knew that he was in the house, along with Gabriel's vessel, but she'd never looked in on him. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing Gabriel's empty body. Still, the angel looked normal enough. His black slacks and blazer were a little rumpled from where he'd been laying down, and his light gray shirt was a deep v-neck. He kinda had a sexy angel thing going on, especially with the dirty blonde hair and icy blue eyes. So many pretty angels, not enough time.

"So, is it finally time?" Dean asked. Michael looked down the table at the hunter, and it hit Emma that _Dean_ was Michael's true vessel. Michael was in a constructed vessel that resembled Dean's father, and wow, everything is just so weird.

"Yes, it's time. It might be safer for you and Sam to wait at Bobby's until it's over," Michael said quietly.

"Will Emma be okay?" She smiled over at Sam and reached under the table to grab his hand. Yeah, he was a big guy, but he was a total softie.

"No harm will come to Emma. Castiel will keep her safe," Michael said as Cas nodded.

"What about after?" Sam asked.

"She'll stay with us. Obviously." Emma felt like she couldn't get in any air when she looked down the table at Dean, and pretty green eyes met hers. "If you want to, of course. No one's forcing you to do anything."

"I thought you'd be ready to get rid of me." That's why she wanted to say goodbye Gabriel. She knew that Michael and Cas were staying on Earth to help with the whole Beelz and Abaddon thing, and she was sure that Gabriel would want to help too. Just like she was sure that the Winchesters would thank her for all her help and send her on her way.

"What? No! We want you to stay here. You're an honorary Winchester now," Sam said with a small smile.

"We could use the help too," Dean added with a smile that looked more like a smirk.

"I can actually stay here?" She tried to ignore the hopeful tremor in her voice, but she had a feeling that it was painfully clear.

"Are you feeling a little slow today, Tinkerbelle? You moved in a week ago." Yeah, that was definitely a smile that belonged on a shark. Do sharks smile? If Dean was a shark, he'd smile. Probably smile like a madman as he chased little fishes around to eat them. Would he fall in love with an angelfish? Wow, she's actually going to be able to stay and have random thoughts about the house's inhabitants turning into ocean dwellers. Life is good.

"I guess I'll be hanging around then."

"And you can move into the best guest room, the one with its own bathroom," Dean said helpfully.

"And give up my Sammy bear?"

"We can work out the logistics of your questionable relationships later. For now, can we stay on point?" Balthazar asked before taking another huge bite of potato salad.

"He's right. We can discuss this later," Cas added.

"Right. What's the game plan?" Emma asked. Michael looked directly at her, and Emma tried not to fidget at the unwavering stare. Geeze, how do Dean and Cas stand this kind of thing? This soul stopping gaze? Sam gently squeezed her hand, and Emma felt herself relax a fraction.

"Dean and Sam will leave. Once the house is clear, I will extract Gabriel's grace from your soul and return it to its vessel. It will not take very long, but it will be painful. You will need rest for several hours."

"Oh, is that all?"

"When are you doing this?" Dean asked. Michael finally looked away from her, and Emma sunk back against her chair once his gaze was gone.

"As soon as you two are at Bobby's." Dean nodded and looked to Sam, who gave a single nod before turning to look at her.

"See you in a few hours." He gave her hand one last squeeze, and Emma watched the two of them walk away before turning back to the angels.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road," Emma said and carefully stood up. Balthazar groaned quietly as he took a last bite of the potato salad, and Emma blinked as she was suddenly surrounded by angels. Michael led the way up the stairs, and Cas was a comforting presence at her back. Walking into the best guestroom and seeing the empty body on the bed was just as bad as she thought it would be, and Emma actually froze in the doorway.

"Emma." She jumped at Cas's voice right above her ear and lightly cleared her throat as she stepped farther into the room. It really did look exactly like the Gabriel from her dreams, and he was wearing the same dark jeans and dark red button-up from the first dream she had of him. The dream where she didn't know his name but thought his eyes were beautiful.

"Come lay here, Emma." Gabriel's vessel was stretched out on the far side of the bed, and Michael was sitting in the middle of the bed next to Gabriel's hip. Emma gently eased herself down onto the bed and relaxed onto her back with her hands at her sides. Michael was sitting between her and Gabriel now, and he looked almost serene. Like all was right in the world and not like he was about to tear out the equivalent of an angel's soul from her own. Balthazar moved around the bed to stand next to Gabriel's body, and Emma winced at the light that suddenly surrounded him. When she turned her head away from the light, Cas was standing at her side with his hands held above her body. In the exact same position that Balthazar was in.

"I'll watch over you," Cas said quietly. Emma nodded and turned her head back to look at Michael. He pressed his palm flat against her stomach, and Emma watched the way his arm moved as she breathed in and out. Huh, he must've found his black tee shirt. His feet were still bare though.

"Stay strong, Emma."

"I will."

The light that surrounded her was so bright that it hurt and burned out everything around her so that she couldn't see anything else, but she felt the hand disappearing inside of her. Just like in the Pit, the hand seemed to sink further than her internal organs and deeper into her soul. The pain was excruciating, but it wasn't anything that she hasn't felt before. She rode out the pain with screams loud enough to wake the dead, but she held her body still. Something told her that she didn't need to move, so she didn't. She screamed as something inside of her ripped and was torn out, leaving behind a jagged mess, and the light grew brighter. It wasn't white though, not anymore. The light was golden and filled her up, like a sunrise.

**SAM**

"I don't like this," Dean grumbled.

"Gotta be done," Bobby huffed. Sam didn't say anything, just crossed his arms and kept looking towards the house. The three of them were leaning against a car next to Bobby's house, so they were still a safe distance away. Sam thought he heard a scream a few minutes ago, but there was no way that they'd be able to hear a scream this far out. At least, he hoped not.

"What's that light?" Dean asked. Light was starting to spill out of the second floor windows, and Sam thought it was white for a moment. It did look white, but it was a little golden too. And it was getting brighter. The three hunters flinched as all the windows in the house exploded and a howl echoed in the air, and that light was still getting brighter.

"Was that Emma?" The howl that was just starting to die off didn't even sound human, but what else could it be?

"Someone better fix all those windows." Leave it to Dean to worry about the house when it sounded like their friend was being torn apart.

"Must've been Gabriel's grace." Bobby was the voice of reason, as always, as the light slowly seeped back into the house. A minute later, the light was completely gone.

"Is that it?"

"Do you think we can go back now?" Bobby looked back and forth between them, but Sam was still looking at the house.

"Should probably wait until—"

"The transfer was successful."

"That happens," Bobby finished. Cas was standing in front of them now, and Sam still wasn't used to seeing the angel in such normal clothes. Although today was a little closer to his normal attire. He was wearing black slacks and a dark blue button-up, but now he had a few of the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. His hair looks even wilder than usual. Is that from the crazy light that just came out of the house?

"Is Emma okay?"

"Is someone going to fix my windows?" Cas looked back and forth between them before sharing a knowing look with Bobby.

"Emma is fine; she's resting now, along with Gabriel. Michael estimates they will wake in a few hours. Would you like me to repair your windows?" Cas was staring at Dean now, and Sam watched as his brother stared back in silence before ducking his head and mumbling something about damned angels ruining his good work. Or something.

"Was that her screaming?" Cas turned to look at him now, and Sam tried not to read anything in the angel's blank face.

"The transfer was very painful. Normally an angel's grace only inhabits the body; it is much harder to remove grace from the soul."

"Can we go back now?" Cas nodded, and Dean instantly started for the house. Sam paused long enough to say bye to Bobby, and Cas walked by his side as they moved behind Dean. Once they were at the front porch, Cas rapped his knuckles against the side of the house. The glass disappeared from the yard as the windows were put back together, and Dean turned around with a big smile. Yeah, Sam really didn't need to stick around for this. He quickly moved around the two to get into the house and just looked around. No one else was in sight.

No one met him at the second floor either, and he paused in front of the guest room that Balthazar and Gabriel's vessel had been staying in. The room he'd been avoiding for the past month because he didn't want to look at Gabriel's empty vessel again, but it wasn't empty anymore. He eased the door open and stuck his head in, and he felt a small smile stretching his lips as he stepped fully into the room. Gabriel's vessel was definitely inhabited now, and he could see with his own eyes that Emma was okay. The archangel and hunter were both laying on their sides on the huge bed and even though they each had plenty of room, they were laying in the center. The dark denim of their jeans blended together from where their legs were all tangled together, and they were so close together that their foreheads were touching. Emma's dark brown against Gabriel's lighter brown. Emma had one hand braced against the back of Gabriel's head, so that her fingers were tangled around the slight curls. Gabriel's hand was curled into the soft material of Emma's green tee shirt, and it was so woven around his hand that the material was lifted enough to show the burned handprint on her hip.

"They look peaceful together." The sound startled him but he didn't jump; he just lifted his head and looked into the corner of the room. Michael was sitting in a recliner that definitely wasn't there before, but the archangel looked comfortable in the big chair.

"Yeah, must be from all the dream quests." Michael smiled at that, and Sam was never going to get over how the archangel looked like his father. Well, maybe not the John Winchester he grew up with, but still.

"Yes, I believe they have grown very close. Very few humans have their souls touched by an angel's grace, and even fewer survive." Sam thought back to when Lucifer had been wearing him, to how it felt to be locked inside his own mind. What would have been like if Lucifer had gotten into his soul instead of just his body?

"But she'll be okay?" Sam didn't mean to phrase it as a question, but it was.

"Emma will be fine, but there will be some after effects."

"Like what? And why?" Questioning an archangel rarely turned out good, but Sam was pretty sure that Michael was on their side. He wasn't trying to jump into Dean's skin, for one thing.

"When an angel enters a vessel's body, they're just inhabiting the body. The soul is kept separate, so that when the angel leaves, nothing gets left behind. Entering a soul is more intimate, and it's nearly impossible to completely separate the grace."

"So Emma still has some of Gabriel's grace inside of her?" That sounded…wrong, somehow.

"Yes, along with some of my own." The look Michael was giving him was trying to tell him something, and Sam looked down at the sleeping bodies. Gabriel and Emma were still in a deep sleep, tangled around each other, and Sam could still see Emma's bare hip. Bare except for the red handprint.

"Because you pulled her out of Hell and recreated her body, like Cas did for Dean. Does Dean have some of Cas's grace in him?" Michael wasn't smiling when he looked over at him, but he looked…maybe not peaceful, but something close.

"Like I said, it's nearly impossible to completely the separate the grace once it's touched the soul. Sometimes it leaves a mark, and sometimes there are other effects."

"Like what?" Michael's eyes met his and then ducked down to look at the sleeping figures.

"We'll have to wait and see."

**EMMA**

Emma woke up slowly, and she felt amazing. Her body was sleep soft and warm, and she could feel soft hair between her fingers. After cuddling with Sam for a week, she knows the feeling of hair between her fingers. This isn't Sam's hair though. Sam's hair is thick and soft, yes, but it doesn't curl outwards like this. The legs tangled around hers aren't as long as Sam's sky high limbs either, and Sam doesn't normally grip her tee shirts. His hands normally grip her thighs, but only in gentlemanly places. So, this is not Sam. Which actually makes sense, because she doesn't remember falling asleep with Sam. The last thing she remembers actually is…excruciating pain and a sunrise? No, wait, it'd been the middle of the afternoon, but there _was_ a beautiful golden light.

"Gabriel!" Her eyes popped open at her quiet whisper, and golden eyes sleepily opened to meet hers. _Gabriel's_ legs were wrapped around hers. _Gabriel's_ hair was caught between her fingers. _Gabriel's_ hand was holding onto her tee shirt like it was his favorite blankie. _Gabriel's_ eyes were looking into hers.

"Hey, sugar," he mumbled and moved even closer to her. They were both on their sides, and their fronts were completely pushed together. Emma's forehead even had a little bit of sweat built up from pressing it against Gabriel's for who knew how long.

"You're…_here_. Holy shit, Gabriel, you're alive!" Emma whispered excitedly. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, but she felt like even talking in a normal speaking voice would mess everything up. Like her and Gabriel were in their own little bubble.

"Mhmm. I'm alive, you're alive, and all is right in the world," Gabriel mumbled. Emma huffed and wiggled her toes against a calf that wasn't hers.

"Except for a looming apocalypse." Gabriel's eyes closed at that, and the hand gripping her shirt unclenched so that his palm was pressed against her side.

"We'll stop that one, easy peasy," he yawned.

"Pumpkin squeezy," she finished.

"I thought it was lemon?"

"I like pumpkins better." Gabriel hummed in his throat and did a little wiggle, so Emma did a wiggle of her own and brushed her nose across Gabriel's forehead. She wrapped a curl around her forefinger as she melted into the bed, still all sleep soft, and felt Gabriel's nose dragging across her throat as he settled himself.

"Gonna be some after effects. Tiny bit of my grace is still wrapped up in that old soul of yours," he sighed against her neck. Emma hummed at that and buried her hand a little further into Gabriel's hair. For someone who'd been dead for almost two years, he had really good hair.

"Don't you need it?" Gabriel shook his head, which made her nails scratch against his scalp and warm puffs of air seeped down the neck of her shirt.

"Can't hide in a soul without leaving a little somethin'-somethin' behind, especially with the way we got torn up. 'S okay, you can keep that little bit." Gabriel sounded almost sleep drunk, like Emma felt when she first woke up after a hunt that pushed her to her limits. Like right after a sleep so deep that she felt like one with the mattress.

"What's it gonna do to me?"

"Dunno. Sometimes it just leaves a mark and that's it." His hand moved under her shirt to press against the brand on her hip, because it was a brand, and Emma felt a shock of heat at the touch. Huh, sensitive little thing. "Just means we're connected."

"I guess I can live with that," Emma huffed and buried her nose in the crown of his hair. He was so warm, and she was still so tired.

"Yeah, me too. Sleep now?" Gabriel's hand was still warm where it was resting on her hip, and they were so tangled together that Emma wasn't sure how to get free. Good thing she was happy right where she was.

"G'night, Gabr'el."

**SAM**

Sam stumbled into the kitchen, still in the process of waking up, and froze. Why does he still get surprised at things he doesn't expect in the kitchen? He also needs to learn to put on a shirt before leaving his room. Just because he's not expecting anyone to be awake and in the kitchen at four in the morning doesn't mean someone won't be. Like now. All Sam wanted was something to drink, but life is never that simple. Instead, two pairs of eyes moved over him and two smiles greeted him.

"Sammy bear!"

"Sammykins!" Emma and Gabriel were sitting side-by-side on the kitchen counter, next to the stove, and dipping big spoons into a giant bowl in Gabriel's lap. They were dressed the same as they were when he saw them yesterday (because it's now a new day), but their hair was sticking up like they just rolled out of bed.

"What are you…?"

"Gabriel's making cupcakes!" Emma's dark eyes were excited and her cheeks had a little color in them, and Sam blinked to try and wake up a little more. They were sitting hip-to-hip, and Gabriel had his ankle hooked around Emma's.

"Want some batter?" Gabriel was holding out his spoon, which had enough chocolate batter on it to bend the spoon, and Sam slowly shuffled forward. Emma smiled at him from around her own spoon, and Sam took the offered utensil. The chocolate was light and settled on his tongue just right, and Gabriel and Emma exchanged a smile at the surprised look on his face.

"Don't tell Deano, but Gabriel's the best baker. _Ever_," Emma whispered. Sam licked the spoon one last time before handing it back, and Gabriel offered a glass of chocolate milk. If he was a little more awake, he'd probably be worried about all the chocolate he was putting in his body.

"Oh, stop flattering me!" Gabriel said in a very high-pitched voice as he flapped his hands at Emma's face.

"You couldn't just mojo them?" Sam slowly put down the glass of chocolate milk, and Emma quickly snatched it up to take a long drink.

"Still building that up, and it's more fun to do it from scratch. Right, Emma?" Gabriel asked as he turned to look at the smaller hunter.

"Right! Now, I'm gonna run to the little girl's room. Don't eat any cupcakes without me!" Emma slid off the counter, hip-checked Sam's thigh, and skipped happily from the room. Sam turned his head to watch her go and then slowly turned back around to meet Gabriel's eyes. He hadn't thought about what it would be like when Gabriel was back, really back and not just some grace hidden in Emma's soul. The last time he even saw the archangel was right before he was, supposedly, killed by Lucifer. Not counting that whole _Casa Erotica_ thing. Sam's still actively blocking that out.

There was a time when Sam actually hated this guy. To start with, he'd just been another monster. Another case. A monster with style, according to Dean, but still just another supernatural creature that got off on killing humans. Then there was Mystery Spot and Dean dying. Again and again and again. Seeing his brother die over and over, and then spending the next six months hunting after the Trickster, hadn't prepared him for Dean's real death at all. Sam gets what Gabriel was trying to do now. He must've known what was coming and was hoping to somehow prepare Sam for Dean's death so that he wouldn't go off the deep end, but Sam went dark side anyway. The TV Land thing had been annoying, but finding out that the Trickster was actually Gabriel? It had been…disappointing. The great archangel Gabriel was masquerading as a Trickster because he was too scared to deal with his own family. Even after finding out who he really was, Sam still hated the guy. It was hard to just get over watching his brother die in every way imaginable. (Sam still flinches whenever Dean eats a taco and can't listen to Asia.)

Gabriel had to go and ruin everything at Elysian Fields. Sam was prepared to knock the hatred down to extreme annoyance, possibly indifference, until Gabriel actually stepped up to Lucifer. Sam's not stupid, he's very sure that Gabriel did it for Kali, but he still saved them all. Gave them time to escape and then told them how to shove Lucifer back into the Cage. How could Sam hate the archangel after he died for them and saved them all at one time? So he put his hatred aside and didn't think about him. He said a quiet thank-you, just once, and moved on. There was no point in dwelling over another dead angel, even if it was an archangel. But Gabriel's not dead. Instead he's sitting in Sam's kitchen and licking chocolate batter off a spoon because he's baking cupcakes. Baking cupcakes after being pulled from a soul that spent two centuries in Hell.

"What's going on in that Cro-Magnon skull of yours?" Gabriel was still just looking at him and licking at his spoon.

"You're alive."

"I've noticed."

"I just, I wanted to say—"

"No need to thank me." Sam stopped staring at Gabriel's knees to meet his eyes, and he ignored the way his hands were clenching at his sides.

"I wanted to say that you're an asshole and an idiot for not telling anyone what you were planning." Sam's words were sharp and angry, so maybe he didn't get over all that anger like he thought.

"C'mon, Sam, tell us how you really feel," Emma drawled as she came back inside. She easily hefted herself back up onto the counter at Gabriel's side and picked her spoon back up.

"You save a guy from getting tossed into Luci's Cage and there's not a single thank-you in sight." Gabriel passed the bowl over to Emma before sliding off the counter, and he reached into the oven with bare hands to pull out the tray of cupcakes.

"How do I know you didn't just save Michael and I was collateral?" Gabriel was poking around in a few cabinets now, looking for something, and Emma was watching Sam with wide eyes as she hurriedly ate the rest of the batter.

"I saved my brother, I saved your brother, and I saved you. That takes a lot of effort, but what can I say? I'm a nice guy like that. So what if I lost so much grace doing that little rescue that I got tortured for a couple of centuries. Whatevs." Gabriel triumphantly held up a tube of icing, and he placed a small drop on Emma's thumb so she could taste-test. At the little hunter's enthusiastic nod, he started decorating.

"If you had just told us what you were planning, we might have been able to save you sooner. Might have even got Emma out of Hell sooner." Gabriel didn't slow down his icing, but he didn't say anything else either.

"Well, Gabriel, what's your counter?" Emma asked as she placed the now empty bowl at her side.

"My counter is that I didn't have time to tell anyone, okay? I had maybe two seconds to decide if risking my grace burning out a soul was worth it, and I didn't want to die. Luckily Emma here didn't burn from the inside out."

"Unluckily I drug your ass with me straight to Hell." The two shared a look, like they were talking without ever opening their mouths, before Gabriel turned back to his cupcakes and Emma looked at her knees. "You know I got extra torture for that light show. I can now safely say that my liver is a little chewy, but it's easier to eat than a kidney. Hearts taste the best though."

"Really? I always liked lung day." Emma lightly nudged Gabriel's hip with her toes, and Sam tried to ignore the rolling sensation in his stomach. Must be from all the chocolate.

"So, Sam, do you want me to move my stuff out of your room today or just some time in the foreseeable future?" Emma asked. She was looking at him calmly, like she hadn't just been discussing the taste of her internal organs with an archangel.

"Whenever you want to is fine."

"You're not even gonna miss my cuddles, are you? Damn, Sam, and I thought we had something special." Emma was smiling at him with too innocent eyes, like she was trying to diffuse whatever tension was in the room.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'll help keep you warm at night," Gabriel said as he passed her a cupcake. Emma's entire body slumped in pure pleasure as she took a bite, and Gabriel spun around to face him with a cupcake in each hand. He took a giant bite out of one and held the other one in front of Sam's nose, and Sam carefully plucked it from his fingers. He had a feeling that having a cupcake for breakfast wasn't the best idea, but nothing else about this morning was making any sense, so why not?

"I'm gonna have to start exercising if I keep eating all this chocolate. Maybe I can talk Cas into going for a run with me," Emma mused from around her cupcake. Sam was still just staring at his. The cupcake itself was chocolate, and Gabriel had written "_sorry_" in swirling blue icing. If it's written in icing, it has to be true.

"You want to go _running_?"

"Us mere mortals have to do things like burn calories if we want to keep our sexy physiques."

"There are more fun ways than _running_ to burn calories."

Sam listened to the two go back and forth as he ate his apology cupcake, and everything was starting to feel a little surreal. Angels are in the house, demons keep passing through, the King of Hell always seems to be at Bobby's house, there's two angels looking to end the world, and he's eating a cupcake for breakfast. With no shirt on. Sam took in Gabriel's bright eyes and Emma's blue lips and came to a decision. He's going to start keeping water bottles in his room, so these kinds of things will stop happening.

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**Finis: **Gabriel has returned! And you know things are going to be so much more fun with him around!


	10. Chapter 10

**TIB: **Tiny little warning, there's a small bit of gore in this chapter. Nothing you haven't seen before, but I still like to give a small warning when it's a bit more graphic. There's a lot of fluff too though to balance it out.

**Handara: **I love Gabriel, I really do. He can be a big fluffy goofball with cupcakes one minute and he can be a fierce archangel the next, which makes him so much fun to write. And Emma definitely loves the cuddles! Cuddles will be a very common theme in this story. Thanks for the review!

**KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl:** I'm so glad my updates make you so happy! Sam and Gabriel will have their ups and downs, for obvious reasons, but I think Emma will be a good mediator. Haha, Emma is still adjusting to being back topside, but things will become more clear later on! And there's no way that I'm gonna leave my main girl hanging. Thanks for the review!

**Lexi:** Thank you so much for the review! I hope you like this chapter too.

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**Chapter Ten  
****Deserving Of A Forked Tongue**

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**EMMA**

"Oh, come on! That is definitely not Roberto! Don't kiss him! What are you-Argh!" Emma fell back onto the couch and let her eyes roll back, and she ignored the way that Gabriel was wiggling his toes in her lap. She'll go back to massaging his feet when sheer stupidity stops being so annoying.

"I do not understand. Why would Julio kiss Maria when he knows that his brother is in love with her?" Emma snorted at Cas's gruff voice and finally reached down to grab a dancing foot. Gabriel immediately went still as she started working her thumbs against his instep, but she still didn't open her eyes.

"Because Julio is a douche nugget," Gabriel answered.

"Because Spanish soap operas were made by the devil," Emma huffed.

"No, I am quite sure that Lucifer has nothing to do with this program." Gabriel's full-body laughter caused his feet to jump in her lap, and Emma lightly swatted against his shin to calm him down. She can't work her magic fingers if he doesn't hold still.

"You're all pathetic, you know that?" Emma finally opened her eyes and took a look around. Cas was sitting in one of the giant recliners and staring intently at the huge flat screen, and she was sitting on the end of the couch with Gabriel stretched out across it and his feet in her lap.

"You know you wanna watch soap operas with us, Dean." Emma smiled at the hunter but did her best not to laugh when he stalked across the living room to sit in the recliner that was right next to the one that Cas had claimed.

"Do you even speak Spanish?"

"A little."

"Yes."

"Si." Dean looked around at all of them and then seemed to just give up as he leaned back into his chair. It was a good call, because even Emma doesn't know what's going on anymore. It's been a little over a week since Gabriel was returned to his vessel and things have been…surprisingly domestic. She moved all of her things into the nice guest room, the big one, and it's so strange to have her own closet again. To have her own bathroom. She has snuck into Sam's room twice to sleep though, but that's just when Gabriel disappears. Which he doesn't do too often.

The angels and the demons have all been splitting up and looking for information. The hunters have been spending countless hours reading and looking for any clues about what's to come. To see if there are any other ways to get Lucifer out. To see if there are any patterns in all the supernatural happenings. Despite their combined efforts, there's been a whole lot of nada. It's very frustrating, for all of them, but what else can they do? That's probably how Emma wound up in the rarely used living room with two angels so they could watch soap operas. A little break never hurt anyone, did it?

"Where's everyone else?" Dean asked once a commercial came on. It's impossible not to get sucked into a soap opera.

"Asmodeus and Meg are still searching." Cas's report.

"Michael and Balthazar are checking up on some leads in Rome." Gabriel's report.

"Sam is helping Bobby with some tricky translations," Emma reported. Dean just hummed at their answers, and the room went quiet as the show started back up.

"I require assistance." Emma jumped, accidentally scratched Gabriel's foot, and looked at the bloody figure in the center of the room.

"Mo? What the hell happened?" Mo's lips twisted into something that resembled a smile at her word usage and pushed his hair out of his eyes. The dark curls were slicked back with fresh blood, and the demon was completely covered in the stuff. Like he'd been swimming in it.

"Meg and I have caught a demon who may have some answers, but he has a request."

"We're granting demon's requests now?" Dean asked. When Emma glanced over, he was still sprawled in his recliner but tensed up like he could spring at any moment. It made her think of a big jungle cat lazing in the sun right before pouncing on some poor unsuspecting prey.

"It's Eligos. He wants to see you, Emma." Flashes of her skin melting off and a demon's dark laughter peppered her brain, but Emma held herself still. Never let 'em see you sweat.

"There's a Devil's Trap in the basement, right? Can we hold him there?" Dean met her questioning stare right on and slowly nodded his head.

"I need to return to Meg. I will bring Eligos here, but I can't stay." This time it was Emma's turn to nod and then Mo was gone.

"I'll go tell Michael what we've caught. Cas?" Gabriel snapped his fingers so that his shoes were back on, and Emma lightly pushed his feet out of her lap.

"I'll stay here. Just in case I'm needed." Emma felt a hand on top of her head moments before she heard the sound of fluttering wings, and she knew that Gabriel was gone. Alright, it's just her and the lovebirds now. Dean led the way down into the basement, where Mo was waiting just outside of the large Devil's Trap. Mo passed the demon over to Dean and disappeared, and Emma took in Eligos's new appearance as Dean strapped him into the sturdy metal chair.

Huh, he looked almost normal. Average height that topped him out about an inch under six feet, a lean kind of body that came from healthy eating and light exercise, and blonde hair that looked like it belonged in a comb over. Under all the blood, he was wearing black slacks and a white polo shirt. He looked like any other man, except for the eyes. The blue eyes were practically blazing as he looked at her, and Emma flinched (mentally) at the phantom sensation of a forked tongue licking blood off her face. Dean removed the strap from between the demon's teeth, which must have kept him from smoking out during the transfer, and a plain ol' human tongue licked at his dry lips.

"Mmm, little Gracie, I've missed you." His voice was deep and curled around her, and the smell of sulfur was burrowing down her nostrils.

"Can't say the same about you. I barely even recognize you without the tail." Emma felt her cheeks stretch with a smile, but she felt cold all over. Eligos was the demon that tortured her after Gabriel's light show; he went after her for a year to get her to talk, but she didn't know anything. After he tossed her back onto the rack, she thought that'd be the last she'd ever see of him. She'd been so wrong. Whenever he got worked up about something, he'd always find her. Some of her worst memories from Hell are because of this asshole.

"We can always take a trip back downstairs and get reacquainted, after we get rid of that incompetent salesman." Emma rolled her neck to try and release some of the tension, and she looked over at where Dean and Cas were leaning against a really long work table. A work table covered with all kinds of toys. Emma quirked a brow, and Dean spread his arms out with a tight smile before crossing them over his chest. That's all the permission she needed.

"I don't see why we can't get to know each other again right here, while you tell me all about how you're going to overthrow the King of Hell." Emma picked up a small knife, because she is not using one of hers on this sorry sack of a demon, and carefully washed her hands.

"Gonna have to try harder than that to get me to spill my guts, Gracie." The knife cut through his soaked shirt easily enough, and Emma locked her elbow as she drug the blade down the center of his stomach. Once there was a nice little opening, she dug her hand into his midsection. The demon howled as the holy water she'd doused her hands in hit his insides, and Emma tried not to gag at the too warm and slick feeling of his innards.

"Come on, Eligos, baby, I know you wanna tell me. Why else would you be here?" Emma settled herself onto his knee to get better leverage, and she twisted her wrist just to hear him scream again. Were human bodies supposed to be this hot inside? She's more used to working with dead bodies.

"Just been missing you. No one else screams as pretty as you, except for the Righteous Man. Used to love watching Alistair carve him up." The air in the room felt charged as Eligos looked past her to Dean, and Emma grabbed a handful of his hair to pull his face back towards her.

"Trying to make me jealous?" She painted on a pout and tried to keep her breathing steady. The knife in her hand slowly pressed against his sternum, and she kept the pressure up just to watch the demon squirm.

"I'll tell you what you want to know, if you scream one last time for me. I'm sure the righteous one over there can help you if you've forgotten how." Emma grit her teeth as she turned away from him, because she knows that he's trying to bait Dean as well as her, and that was her first mistake. As soon as her face was turned away, he pushed forward and teeth latched onto the meat of her bare bicep. Emma's answering scream beat against her eardrums as Eligos tore a chunk of flesh free, and she brought the knife up into the soft spot under his chin.

"You son of a bitch! Stay over there!" Emma pointed at Dean with a shaking finger, and she saw his blurry shape out of the corner of her eye as he leaned back against the work table. A little blood loss isn't going to kill her. She jerked the knife out, and Eligos turned his head to spit out a fleshy mixture of her skin and a piece of his own tongue. "Alright, you fuckwad, you got your scream. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," was the sarcastic response. There was so much blood on the lower half of his face that Emma couldn't tell which of it came from him and which of it came from her. Her bicep was throbbing and on fire, and blood was making her arm slick.

"What's the big plan?"

"Will you kill me after I tell you?" Emma met his eyes and tried not to think about the sick pulsing coming from her right arm.

"Scout's honor."

"I wanna make a deal, little Gracie. I tell you the plan, you don't kill me. Sounds fair, doesn't it?" Emma shivered at the words but didn't look away. A deal, huh? Once was enough for a lifetime, but…

"Emma, no!"

"Deal." She pressed her lips against his bloody ones and then immediately started furiously wiping at her lips with her tee shirt. She really liked this shirt, but it's a lost cause now. Way too much blood. "Now, plan?"

"How did you get Lucifer back into the Cage?" When Dean didn't say anything, Eligos smiled and licked at the drying blood on his lips. "That's how they plan to get him out. Keys open doors, doesn't matter if you're going in or out."

"What else do you know?" Emma remembers Sam telling her about the Cage and how it was opened with the horsemen's rings. Gabriel was the one that told them how to do that actually. So, Beelz and Abaddon want to use the rings to open the door again because using any of the Seals is impossible (there's only one first Seal and one last Seal after all).

"I know they're going to take Lucifer's true vessel and fill him up with mother's milk, so he'll be big and strong when Lucifer's ready for him. As for Dean, they're going to drag him back to Hell. We're not looking for an Apocalypse, so Michael doesn't need a vessel. Dean's the last of his line, so once he's gone, Lucifer can take out Michael with no problem." Eligos looked away from her to look back at Dean. "We've kept your rack empty. Hell misses your pretty sounds."

"Is that all you know?" Blue eyes moved back to hers, and Emma could still taste blood in her mouth.

"I know I miss the sight of you going all…_boneless_." The last word was said with a hiss deserving of a forked tongue, and Emma had to forcefully push down the chocolate pancakes she had for lunch. All she could think about now was Eligos carefully cutting her skin open and carving her bones out. Then stitching her back up and showing her his newest masterpiece, her bloody skeleton while she just laid there. A sack of skin.

"Is. That. All. You. Know." The words were bitten out and punctuated with shallow little cuts to the demon's face, and she couldn't keep doing this. She's gotta get out of here. Now.

"That's all I know. Now, let me go." Emma eased off his knee and took a few steps back. Once she was completely out of the Devil's Trap, she tossed the knife back onto the work table and looked over at Dean. She barely felt Cas's hand on her wrist, but she definitely felt the cool breeze that rolled through her arm. The hole in her arm closed up as it stopped pounding, and Emma smiled gratefully at Cas before turning back to Dean.

"He's all yours."

"We had a deal, Gracie! Let me go!" Emma paused at the bottom of the stairs and tightly gripped the railing.

"The deal was that I wouldn't kill you. I never said anything about Dean." Emma was closing the basement door behind her when the demon started screaming, and she felt hot bile rising up her throat. So much for a peaceful afternoon.

**SAM**

"Emma?" The small hunter was bent over in their backyard, hands braced against her knees, and puking so hard that Sam was worried something vital was going to come up. Thankfully her hair was balled up on top of her head, but he still walked over to her and lightly rubbed a hand across her back. The white shirt and pink pants she was wearing were streaked with blood, and he knew it was hers. Dean was just finishing up with the demon when Sam got downstairs, and his older brother relayed the news in short sentences. Emma questioned one of the demons that tortured her in Hell and actually got answers, but not before the demon got her to scream.

"Ugh, this is so disgusting. I don't even know what that is," Emma muttered right before another wave spilled out of her.

"Looks like that cake Gabriel made. See? There's the yellow icing." He heard Emma snort and then wretch again, and Sam kept up the wide circles on her back. Emma was breathing heavily through her nose but still bent over when Sam heard the rustle of feathers, and he glanced over at Gabriel. From the look on his face, he already knew what happened.

"Look, Gabr'el. I recreated your cake," Emma said with a harsh cough. It sounded wet, and Sam felt his own stomach rolling.

"Little too Pollock for my taste. How you holding up, sugar bear?" Emma straightened up, stumbled a bit at the head rush, and Sam moved his hand from her back to her stomach. She was propped up against him now, and he started rubbing small circles on her stomach. He had a faint memory of some school nurse doing that for him when he was little, and the motion had helped calm his stomach some.

"So gross. Dean kill the bastard?" Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the mess at Emma's feet disappeared. The little hunter smacked her lips and then sagged back against him. "Mmm, minty fresh. Thanks."

"Anytime, and he's dead. Michael and Dean are talking now. What'd he say?" Gabriel was staring intently at Emma, and Sam wasn't used to seeing that look on the archangel's face. He looked so serious, which was a rare sight, especially around Emma. Normally when those two are together, they're smiling and laughing. Usually at his expense.

"Horseman's rings. If Lilith could've popped the box using those, why'd she go through the Seals and sacrifice herself?" It was a good question and something that Sam had been thinking about. Even before this new information.

"Wouldn't have worked the first time. The Cage had to have already been opened for the rings to work, and you know that's not what I'm asking. A little blood wouldn't do this to you, I would know, so what'd he say?" Sam could actually _feel_ the shiver that rolled down Emma's back, and slim hands reached up to hold onto his wrist. The move pushed his hand a little tighter against her stomach, and he raised his arm to press his other hand against hers.

"Boneless," was the quiet answer. The single word didn't mean anything to Sam, but it must have meant something to Gabriel. He went completely still and his eyes darkened, like Dean's did whenever someone mentioned the rack.

"Skin sack?"

"Skin sack." Sam wasn't really sure what to expect after that quiet exchange, but it wasn't Emma hurriedly pushing away from him so she could double back over. Mainly because he didn't think she could have anything left in her stomach. It was painful to watch, but he stepped up and went back to rubbing sweeping circles over her back.

"Is she going to be okay?" What Sam really wanted to ask was what was setting her off and making her puke straight up bile, but he didn't. His curious nature was a curse and occasionally spilled out of him, but he didn't want to say anything that would upset Emma even more.

"Emma?" The little hunter gave a quick thumbs-up, coughed, and spilled some more vile-smelling liquid onto the grass. "Eligos was one of the more creative demons. Most of 'em are pretty standard. They slice, they dice, and they set people on fire. No biggie. But boneless? Boneless was the worst."

"What does it mean?" Emma moaned quietly and started coughing.

"Means exactly what it sounds like. He cut our skin open, sawed at the bones, and plucked 'em out. Then he stitched us back up, completely boneless, and made us watch as he built our skeleton. We were just some skin and organs."

"I think that's everything," Emma mumbled at the ground. She was stuck just dry heaving now, and the harsh sounds sounded loud in the quiet that had settled around them. Truth was, Sam felt like emptying his stomach too. When he thinks, _"Oh, Emma was tortured in Hell_", it's just that. His mind doesn't elaborate on the torture, it's just a word. Now all he can think about is Emma being split open and lying flat without her skeleton. And not just Emma. Gabriel kept saying "our," because he was there too.

"Come on, sugar, let's go take a nap." A snap later the ground was clean again and Emma's breath was minty fresh, and Sam helped her straighten up.

"A nap sounds wonderful. You'll come too, right, Sam?" Wide dark brown eyes were staring up at him, and he could feel Gabriel's lighter eyes looking at him too.

"My bed's bigger," was his answer. Both of them smiled, like he told them Christmas was coming early, and Sam wondered just what he'd gotten himself into. Until he saw the tight skin around Emma's eyes that showed her tension and probably a migraine, and the way that Gabriel's fingers kept running over the bones in his own hands. Like he was checking that they were still there. If a nap was what the two PTSD Hell survivors needed, he could handle that.

**EMMA**

Emma woke up sweaty and starving. The first one was easy enough to figure out, because she was surrounded by two very male bodies that were throwing out some serious heat. Well, Sam always felt like a furnace and right now, he was so hot against her back that she could feel the way her tank top was sticking to her skin. Gabriel's body pressed against her front wasn't helping matters either, because she was pouring sweat. She was used to sleeping with both of them, but never at the same time. She probably should have seen this coming. When she sleeps with Sam, they always end up in one of two positions. Either she spreads out on his torso like he's the mattress, or they both lay on their sides and Emma plays the role of a little spoon. When she sleeps with Gabriel (who doesn't exactly sleep but instead goes into a deep meditative state to recharge), they always sleep the same way. Face to face and tangled together. She should have known sandwiching herself between them was going to end in an ocean of sweat.

It took nearly five minutes to get out from between them. That doesn't sound long in theory, but in reality, five minutes is like an hour. She had to pry Sam's bear paw of a hand off her thigh and Gabriel was holding onto her tee shirt like a lifeline, and don't even get her started on their legs. Yeah, legs. Sam and Gabriel's legs were somehow tangled together between hers, and it was like the worst kind of pretzel. Still, she managed it. Once she was free, she did a little happy dance just for being able to get out from between them without waking either of them up. Then she spent the next minute fanning herself, and not just because she'd been sleeping between two very attractive males. There was _sweat_ everywhere. Yeah, she'd changed into some old shorts that used to be an old pair of gray sweatpants and a green tank top, but the _heat_. If she ever got stuck in a Winter Wonderland, she really wants Sam and Gabriel with her.

She paused at Sam's door and looked back before stepping out. Now that she was out from between them, they were tangled together. Emma had to hold back a laugh that came out as a snort. Their legs were still locked around one another, but their hands had moved. Gabriel was gripping the tee shirt under Sam's usual plaid, and Sam had one big hand wrapped around Gabriel's knee. She was almost sorry that she wasn't going to be around to see their reactions when they woke up. Because that? That was going to be _priceless_. Her stomach is growling though, so it's time to go in search of food. She wouldn't be so hungry if she hadn't upchucked everything she'd ever ate (she's pretty sure she caught a glimpse of some Gerber's earlier), but what can you do?

"Emma?" She blinked, rubbed a hand across her eyes, and tried to focus.

"Whoa, dude, I was just in Sam's room. Can you sleepwalk when you're awake?" Pretty green eyes met hers from across the kitchen, which is weird since she doesn't really remember walking down the stairs. She really needs to wake up a little more.

"Pretty sure that's just called walking. Feeling better?" Dean took a long sip from his coffee cup after he asked, and Emma just stared at the cup. It was huge, white, and said "I'd Rather Be In Vegas" in thick red letters.

"Feel kinda empty, but I'm okay. I'm just gonna grab a snack," she said and started for the breakfast cabinet. She's not really sure what time it is, but the sun is down. Doesn't matter. Poptarts are acceptable at any time of the day. She distantly heard the thud of ceramic on whatever the counters are made out of and then hands were gripping her shoulders. She was steered away from the cabinet and over to the kitchen table, and she let her knees buckle as Dean pushed her into a chair.

"I'll make you some soup. Poptarts'll just make you puke again." Emma stayed put as Dean started pulling stuff out, and she propped an elbow on the table so she could drop her head into her hand.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" It's no secret that Dean enjoys cooking, he's the one that cooks dinner for them, but he saves the mother-henning for his little brother.

"Thought I was always nice?" Dean tossed a smirk over his shoulder as he twisted a knob on the stove, and Emma realized that they were alone. This is the first time that she's been alone with the guy since she came back topside. Normally Sam or Cas are around, or even Gabriel.

"You're something alright, not sure if nice is the right adjective though." She smiled innocently when he looked over at her, and he just rolled those pretty eyes before turning back to the pot on the stove.

"You just sit there and look pretty, without commentary." Emma huffed out a laugh and spent the next few minutes just watching Dean move around. What? He's an attractive guy, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a dark blue tee shirt (which is practically naked in Winchester terms), and he's cooking. It's hotwired into women's brains to be appreciative of attractive guys being domestic.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean was stirring the pot now and didn't turn to look at her.

"Yes, I've always been this awesome."

"And full of yourself. Seriously, can I?" Emma knows that she can be a little blunt sometimes, but she likes having permission before just popping stuff out.

"It's a free country, nobody's stopping you."

"Why'd you let me stay here when you didn't trust me?" Dean did glance over his shoulder at that, and Emma didn't bother putting on a face.

"Straight up honesty?" Emma got a flashback to a really small motel room and wearing dirt-stained clothes, and this time she did smile.

"Straight up." It's something that she's been wondering for a while, but she's never had the chance to ask. She can be a little slow sometimes, but she's not a complete idiot. Dean might like her, but he didn't trust her. He might not even trust her now, it's a little hard to tell. And she knows that he didn't trust her, because he's a hunter. Hunters don't trust easily.

"I didn't trust you to stay here alone when me and Sam went on that witch hunt, but I knew Cas would keep a close eye on you. I didn't trust your voodoo tattoo artist; I'm not even sure if I trust you now. The people we trust are the first ones to stab us in the back."

"So, why am I still here? Why'd you give me a room? Why'd you drive us all to Albuquerque?" Dean tossed some shakers around, stirred the pot again, and then pulled over a bowl. Emma was quiet as he went about pouring soup into a bowl, and her eyes closed as she listened to him work. She knew he'd answer when he was ready. Her eyes didn't open until she heard something right in front of her, and she blinked down at the steaming bowl. A lot of broth, chunks of potatoes, and chopped up carrots. A saucer with two slices of dry toast. And…apple juice?

"Eat." Didn't have to tell her twice. Emma slurped into the meal with enthusiasm, and Dean joined her at the table after he topped off his coffee. He sat across from her, and Emma met his eyes as she took a bite of the toast.

"Thanks." He just nodded and took a sip of his coffee. They were quiet as Emma ate, and she was halfway through the bowl when Dean started talking.

"Sam blames himself for the Apocalypse, for Lucifer. Doesn't matter that I started the damn thing. Blames himself for trusting Ruby and the demon blood, and I didn't help with that. Not the way I should've." Emma just nodded solemnly and tried to think of the right words to say to properly express her thoughts.

"You'd just come out of Hell, and everything was…nothing's the same after coming back. It's not like you had a lot of time to adjust either. You came out of the gate running. Mistakes happen. And Sam doesn't blame you for anything." That was one thing that Sam had been adamant about when he told her what all had happened. Sam admitted that they'd both made mistakes and could have handled things differently, but that's hindsight for you. Emma's pretty sure that they did a helluva lot better than anyone else would've done. To her, they're heroes. Real heroes too. Not the heroes that swoop in with their gleaming armor and save the day. No, the Winchesters are the heroes that've bled and sacrificed everything for the whole goddamned world. And all without songs singing their praises or a single thank-you.

"I could tell when he'd start thinking about all of it. He just gets this look, and I didn't know what to do or say to make it better. But I'd catch him reading your journal, and he'd look okay. You did what I couldn't, and you weren't even here. I let Sam trust you enough for the both of us, because I do trust him."

"For what it's worth, I'm not planning on double crossing you. I like you, and Sam, and Cas. I like having a closet." They shared a knowing look at that one, and Emma had to move her eyes down to her soup. "I had a family. A mom, a stepdad, a baby sister. I can still remember what it's like to have a home; I just didn't realize I missed it until I spent some quality time in Hell."

"Place is an eye opener, huh?" Dean took an extra-long sip at that, and Emma nodded thoughtfully.

"I know you don't want to, but you should talk about what happened with Sam. I'm not even telling you to go into detail, just give him something or he's going to keep worrying."

"Do you like talking about what happened down there?" The words were sharp and tinged in anger, but Emma didn't take offense. She gets it, really. She probably gets it more than anyone else can.

"Of course I don't. I nearly puked out my spine earlier, and all it took was a single word. And I know you have a no chick-flick moments thing, which we're totally not violating right now, but talking about it kind of helps. It still sucks, I'm still royally fucked up, but I feel a little more…I dunno, here? More grounded."

"Hmm."

"You get that, right? Sometimes I still feel like I'm not really here. Like maybe I finally broke in the Pit and this is some kind of weird ass coping mechanism, and I'm gonna wake up soon on a rack with a demon stringing my guts up like party lights."

"Yeah, I get it." Dean rubbed over his arm, his _left_ arm, and Emma thought about the red scar on her hip. So she wasn't the only one that thought of that particular little souvenir whenever Hell came a-screamin'. Good to know.

"Alright, you can relax now. Girly moment is over. What's our game plan?" Dean really did relax, so all the emotional talk must've had him high-strung, but talking business is always easy.

"After we opened the Cage, the rings disappeared. We waited to see if there were any signs from the Horsemen, but there was nothing. Rings had to go back to their owners, so we need to find them first. We're all having a big powwow first thing in the morning." Emma soaked up the last of her soup with her last bite of toast, and she washed it all down with the last bit of her apple juice.

"Sounds like a plan. I'm gonna go snuggle back up with Gabriel and your brother. G'night, Dean!"

**SAM**

The best thing about having his own room and bed? He gets to wake up slowly, in increments instead of all at once. He could keep his eyes closed as his heavy limbs stretched to get the kinks out, and he could relax and let sensations filter back in. Like now. He had one arm curled up under his pillow since he was on his side, and he shifted his hand a bit to find a cold spot. The move caused his nose to press against the pillow, and he rubbed his cheek against it. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he loves his fluffy pillows. After sleeping on thin and musty smelling pillows in motels all across the country, he's learned to appreciate the comfort of a plump and cleaning smelling pillow. His other hand moved up from the crease of a knee to grip a denim covered thigh, and Sam froze.

Emma never slept in jeans. He fell asleep with warm skin against his palm, not denim. So if this wasn't Emma, then it had to be…oh no. Sam's eyes slowly peeked open, and his only bed partner was still sleeping. Or in a deep meditative state, as Gabriel liked to call it. He was _cuddling_ an archangel, so Emma must have snuck out. They were really close together too. Their legs were wrapped together, light brown hair was tickling his nose, and there was a soft weight on his ribs. Gabriel was gripping his tee shirt, like he usually did with Emma. Sam wasn't sure if he could move back without waking him up, so he just stayed very still. He might have even stopped breathing, because this was _Gabriel_. A loud, sarcastic, and sometimes vindictive archangel. He was curled up with the person who killed his brother repeatedly to prove a point and who gave them a way to avert the Apocalypse. He didn't even look like an all-powerful archangel right now. Right now he looked like a guy taking a nap, with his hair ruffled and some stubble on his cheeks.

"Hair, sugar, hair," Gabriel mumbled and shuffled forward. Sam thought they were close before, but he was wrong. He could feel the other man's chest and stomach moving against his own as he breathed, and Gabriel nuzzled his nose against Sam's collarbone. Once. Twice. Three times. Why couldn't he just stay still? Unless…his hair, right. Emma liked playing with hair when she slept, so that must be what Gabriel was angling for. He carefully moved his arm and shifted enough to get his arm over Gabriel's head so that his hand could reach his hair.

"'S better." Sam let the thick strands sink between his fingers and ignored the happy little wiggle that Gabriel gave. The light colored hair was soft, and Sam idly hooked a slight curl around his finger. He could see why Emma did this. It was kinda relaxing, to just let the strands move around his fingers while Gabriel sighed happily.

The sound of the door opening made him freeze, and he quickly closed his eyes. He kept his breathing even as quiet footsteps moved around the bed, and he held completely still as the bed rocked the tiniest bit as more weight was added. There was a slight bouncing on the mattress, a quiet huff, and then some shifting around. He knew it was Emma and that he should probably let her know he was awake, but he didn't move. It sounded like she was settling down behind Gabriel, and he heard her making small noises as she got comfortable. A small eternity later, her breathing evened out and Sam opened his eyes again. He'd been right. Emma was curled up behind Gabriel, her knees drawn up behind his, and she had a single finger wrapped around a lock of Gabriel's hair. Sam's hand had kind of commandeered the rest. She looked peaceful though as she breathed against the back of the archangel's neck, and Sam gave up on thinking.

He'd think about it all tomorrow. Right now, he was warm and sleepy. Yeah, he'd save the thinking for tomorrow.

* * *

**Finis: **Lots of fluff and icky stuff. Gotta have balance, right? There's not really much I think I need to explain for this chapter, it's all pretty straightforward. Oh! The only reason Eligos gave up the information was because Mo and Meg already worked him over; he'd already given up, he just wanted to see Emma one last time.

For anyone who's curious, this is my headcanon Dean if he ever got a chance to settle down. Making soup for people with upset stomachs and forcing himself to sit still while attempting to have talks about feelings. Also, Dean does like Emma and does trust her for the most part, but there's always gonna be a little doubt. Oh, and the coffee cup is so Dean's.

Thank you to everyone reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**TIB: **Just a small heads-up, this chapter was really hard to write.

**Handara: **There's a little bit of Michael in this chapter! I promise, he'll start popping up in the story a lot more pretty soon. I'm glad you're okay with the Sam and Gabriel pairing! I'm pretty much okay with any pairing as long as it's written well. Emma does have it rough, but she's got a really good support system now! Domestic Dean has always been my headcanon, and I really love writing him that way.

**Lexi:** Yeah, I really do torture Emma and Gabriel too much, but I gotta keep it real. There's no way Emma can get out of Hell and be just fine, but I try to have some happy moments too. Thank you so much! Sometimes I worry that I'm going over the top or getting too detailed, so that means so much to me!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven  
****Scooby Doo Logic**

* * *

**EMMA**

Icy blue and dark brown clashed, but neither would back down. Emma couldn't be the first to look away; it was a matter of pride. She had a feeling that was why the man sitting across from her couldn't look away either. That's okay, Emma can do this for hours. She shifted on the couch and pulled her bare feet up, and he shifted around in the recliner across from her. For the moment, they were the only two in the living room. When Emma woke up, around an hour ago, it was to Sam's sleep slack face. Gabriel had popped off to who-knows-where, which just put a damper on Emma's whole day. She wanted to see their reactions when Gabriel and Sam realized they were cuddling each other without her in the middle as a buffer. Whatever. Since Sam was still asleep, she snuck off into her own shower and then came downstairs to wait for the powwow.

She knows that Sam is showering now, so he should be down any minute. Gabriel is wherever Gabriel wants to be, Dean and Cas are in the kitchen _not_ staring at each other (ha!), Michael is…she has no idea, and the demons are wherever they've been. Emma's kinda glad about that last one. She really likes Mo, she's actually known him longer than almost anyone else thanks to the whole Hell thing, but she's not in a hurry to see Meg again. She's managed to avoid the demon since coming topside, and that is one reunion she is not looking forward to. Seeing Mo and even Crowley is kinda easy, because neither one of them ever actually tortured her. Meg, on the other hand, has been elbow deep in her innards.

"What are you even looking at?" Emma snapped out of her head and was happy to note that she was still staring intently into Balthazar's eyes.

"You're kinda sexy for an angel, you know? Then there's the whole accent thing. It's really working for me." The angel huffed as he turned away, and Emma did a mental happy dance. Oh yeah, she rocked that staring contest. She picked up one of the notepads laying on the coffee table, because the boys leave their research materials everywhere, and started scribbling.

"You're giggling."

"It's a normal thing for a human girl to do," Emma pointed out. She kept sneaking glances at the angel and then letting a giggle slip out, and she could tell that he was fighting not to laugh. He can't fool her. She knows that he used to be besties with Gabriel, so he has to have a sense of humor. It's the only way to put up with Gabriel for any length of time.

"Shouldn't you have grown out of that by now?"

"I'm young at heart." Which reminds her, will she be turning twenty-six this year or two hundred and thirty-three? "Isn't it a masterpiece?"

Emma turned the notepad around and propped her chin on top it so she could watch Balthazar's reaction. The angel didn't disappoint. His lips parted, his eyes widened, and then he started laughing like a loon. That's right. No one can diffuse tension like Emma Motley! Written very clearly, in thick block letters, was _"Emma + Balthazar 4Ever" _ with a big heart around it. She'd even drawn stick figures holding hands below it, and it was so worth it so see those icy blues eyes light up with laughter. Balthazar swiped a hand through his dirty blonde hair as his laughter quieted, and Emma blew him a kiss just as Dean and Cas walked inside.

"I was not aware that you two are romantically involved," Cas said with one of those head tilts. Has to be an angel thing, because Gabriel does it too. She's even seen Michael do it a time or two.

"The little human is making a joke, Castiel," Balthazar said with a curl to his lips. Emma decided that he should definitely smile more, but maybe not until after she gets laid. All of the sexual tension and lack of an outlet is gonna kill her one of these days.

"Besides, Emma's already taken," Dean said with a leery smirk in her direction.

"By who?" The angel followed Dean across the living room and then stood next to the recliner that Dean sat in.

"Our brothers, who else?"

"Hey! Just what kind of girl do you take me for?!" Balthazar had a light in his eyes and was doing his best not to smile, and poor Cas just looked so confused.

"Not feeling _adventurous_ lately?" Oh, Dean was a very naughty individual. This is why Sam is her favorite.

"Hey, the things I did before my death sentence don't count. Gotta live it up before you die, right?"

"Threesomes are living it up?"

"Threesomes are a fun afternoon," Emma said with a slow wink.

"Oh, I like her. Once this dreadful mess is taken care of, you and I should celebrate," Balthazar drawled as he relaxed back into his seat. Emma's eyes were drawn to the long line of his legs as they spread open, and she felt herself shrugging.

"If I live through this Apocalypse, it's a date."

"I am very confused." Cas looked confused too, if the drawn appearance of his eyebrows was anything to go by.

"We're all confused," Dean huffed. It's what he gets for trying to get her all flustered.

"Why are we all confused?"

"Sammykins! Come sit by me," Emma said and patted the empty spaces on either side of her. She was sitting dead center on the couch, so she was surrounded by empty space. Sam ambled over and tucked himself into the far corner, so Cas was now standing between Dean and Sam.

"We're confused because—" Cas's words abruptly stopped, and Emma jumped as a gentle pressure appeared on her thighs. Bare wiggling toes and a sucker hanging out of Cas's mouth? Could be anybody.

"You're a menace to society." Emma's not even sure why she said it, because she's already massaging his feet.

"You love it." Gabriel was propped up against the other arm of the couch and stretched out enough so that his feet could rest in her lap, so she was now surrounded by her two favorite sleeping partners. Do you see why she needs to get laid? Temptation everywhere that she can't touch. Well, she could, probably, but doesn't really want to. She likes admiring from afar, and she'll never admit to any of them, but she respects Sam too much to make a real pass at him. As for Gabriel, the angel was actually in her soul. It doesn't get any more intimate than that. Don't even get her started on Dean and Cas, because those two are already taken and are too blind to realize it.

"Any luck, Michael?" Emma slowly raised her eyes away from wiggling toes at Balthazar's quiet question and finally noticed Michael leaning against a wall. He must have popped in at the same time as Gabriel. The oldest archangel nodded his head and crossed his arms, and Balthazar went back to sprawling in his recliner.

"Have we missed the small talk?" Crowley and Bobby were standing in the doorway, and the demon's eyes slowly flicked over the room. When he noticed that all of the available sitting space was taken, he rolled his eyes and two armchairs appeared. Bobby glared over at the King of Hell but still took the offered chair, which Emma does not blame him for. If they're going to powwow this out, might as well be comfortable.

"Just discussing some of Emma's questionable sexual exploits."

"Like you're one to talk. Hunters gossip, you know." Emma and Dean stared each other down, but that was okay with Emma. She was on a roll with the staring contests today.

"My, my, my. Are we interrupting a lover's tiff?" The light drawl had Emma's spine freezing up, and Gabriel dug his heels down into her thigh. Oh, yeah, Meg tortured Gabriel too. Does the demon know she tortured an archangel that can smite her before she draws her next breath?

"You're late!" Crowley snapped. When Emma looked over, Meg was raising a brow at her King. The demoness was leaning against the doorway to the living room with Mo right behind her, and the two demons were surprisingly blood free.

"Can we get started?" Ah, good ol' Bobby, keeping everyone focused on the matter at hand. Which shouldn't be so difficult, since it's just the Apocalypse that hangs in the balance. No biggie.

"Did you find them, Michael?" So, was Dean their leader? Or one of the angels? Emma was a little lost on the hierarchy of their ragtag group. Not that it really matters, because she's near the bottom of the totem pole either way.

"I was able to locate all of the Horsemen. War, Famine, and Pestilence have gone to ground. They have warded themselves against both angels and demons, I assume to avoid being awoken again until the Apocalypse has actually begun. Death has assured me that he will contact me if anyone makes an attempt on him." Emma let her fingers lightly push against Gabriel's feet as she thought that over. Okay, so three out of four of the rings were buried. The fourth Horseman was now on the look-out, but even just getting three would be more than good enough.

"Warded against demons and angels, so none of you can get to 'em." Bobby was looking around the room now, and Emma noticed how none of the angels would meet Bobby's eyes. Gabriel looked down at the jolly rancher he was unwrapping, Cas found something interesting on the ceiling, Balthazar found a loose string on his jacket, and even Michael was looking down at his feet. Huh, looks like the angels aren't used to not being allowed to do something.

"What are you thinking?" Crowley was looking at the man seated next to him, and Bobby definitely had his thinking cap on. Not to be mistaken with the trucker hat.

"We need three rings, and we've got three hunters." Emma perked up at that, because it's been a while since she got to actually do anything.

"The crypts are heavily protected," Michael helpfully added.

"Give each hunter an angel and get the job done, because if you found 'em? I can damn well guarantee ya that those other two ain't far behind." Bobby has a good point. If Michael could find them that quickly, then it was possible that Beelz and Abaddon were really close to finding them too. Or already have.

"Splitting up is _not_ a good idea," Dean all but growled. There's that protective streak she's heard so much about; she was wondering if she'd ever get to see it in action.

"Scooby Doo logic, I like it," Emma mumbled and completely ignored the green glare trained on her. Geeze, it felt like there was a bulls-eye on her head. Or a red dot.

"The sooner we recover the rings, the better. Balthazar, Asmodeus, Meg, can you run the perimeter around the crypts until the rings have been removed?" The three quickly agreed, and Michael closed his eyes. Balthazar hummed quietly as the two demons groaned and then all three were just gone. What just happened?

"Michael gave them the locations. So, who's pairing up?" Gabriel asked. Emma scowled at the archangel as she suddenly started massaging a pair of Converses, but she kept her mouth shut. Still, the guy could give her a little bit of a warning.

"I'll go with Cas." Yeah, like that was a big surprise. That left her and Sam, and Michael and Gabriel. Emma knows Gabriel better, something about all that soul-grace sharing thing, but she knows Michael too. Sam, on the other hand, barely knows Michael and can tolerate Gabriel. Decision made.

"I'll go with Michael. Sam, Gabriel's all yours," Emma said and reached over to pat the taller hunter on the shoulder.

"Who goes after who?" Dean did not look happy about the whole situation, but he's going along with it. Good, because they're a little short on time.

"We will retrieve War's ring." Oh, goody. She just had to get the bloodthirsty Horseman.

"Alright, Samsquatch, Famine or Pestilence?"

"Famine."

"Which leaves us with Pestilence. Let's get this over with." Emma wiggled out from under Gabriel's feet to slip on her flipflops and walked over to where Michael was standing, and she turned to look at everyone else. Dean and Cas were standing so close that their arms brushed, and Gabriel was standing next to Sam now. Emma met Sam's eyes first, then Gabriel's, and Michael's hand curled over her shoulder. You know what came next. Darkness and a sharp tug somewhere behind her belly button. It's go time.

**SAM**

"Are we in…?"

"The party capital of the world? Oh yeah." Famine was hiding in Las Vegas. Dean was going to be pissed when he found out.

"Why here?" Gabriel was striding down the street, weaving perfectly between small crowds of people, and Sam had to hurry to keep up with him. It should have been easy, since he was a little bit taller, but Gabriel was fast.

"Think about it, Sammykins. Famine is all about people hungering, right? People desperately trying to fill themselves up. Why do you think people come to Vegas?" Gabriel looked over his shoulder at that one, and the bright sunlight made Gabriel's golden eyes almost glow. He almost looked like a real angel.

"I guess that makes sense, but he's not really hiding, is he?" It did make sense, in a twisted kind of way.

"Hiding in plain sight's the oldest trick in the book. C'mon, this way." Sam felt a little lost as they twisted between people, trekked down sidewalks, and creeped around buildings. When Gabriel finally came to a stop, Sam had no idea where he was and he was sweaty.

"Gabriel?" He was standing in the middle of a sidewalk and staring across the street at what looked like a travel agency. There were posters on the glass windows that showed sandy beaches and palm trees blowing in the wind, so why was Gabriel staring at it like the building told him he could never have candy again?

"What do you see?"

"A travel agency." The archangel looked up at him with his head slightly tilted to the side, which immediately made him think of Cas. "What do you see?"

"I see what it really is. Humans just see whatever they want. We gotta get you in the building if we're going to find anything." Sam didn't need to be told twice. As he crossed the street to get to the building, he noticed how people seemed to avoid the building. No one was walking inside of it or out of it, and people's eyes just seemed to slide right past it. Huh, there must be some heavy enchantments placed around it.

"Hold up, Gigantor!" A warm hand wrapped around his wrist and kept him from reaching the front door, and Sam looked down at the archangel.

"We don't have time to fool around, Gabriel." Golden eyes widened and then narrowed, and Sam felt fresh sweat on his palms and around his neck.

"We're gonna revisit that statement later. Right now, stay focused. This place isn't warded against angels, exactly, but it's not going to be good. No matter what happens, find the ring and get out. I'm not going to be much help." Sam just took a moment to look down at the archangel. He didn't look worried, but he wasn't smiling either. Gabriel was always smiling, even when he was being vindictive. For him to just look up at Sam quietly was a big clue that this wasn't going to be easy as it seemed.

"We'll be okay." At that, Gabriel did smile. It didn't reassure Sam in the slightest.

"That optimism thing you've got going on is cute. Impractical, but cute. Start moving." Sam didn't even realize that Gabriel was still holding onto his wrist until he let go, and the small strip of skin suddenly felt cold. He'll think about that later.

One big hand pressed against the front door and pushed inside, and there was a small snap in his head. The normal looking lobby he'd seen through the door a moment later was gone and replaced with something that looked like it would fit in at a graveyard. Like a mausoleum. Thick slabs of concrete, cool, and the smell of mildew and rot that he always associated with death. It was also dark, like no light could reach inside. With a snap of fingers, Sam had a heavy duty flashlight in his hand. He looked over to thank Gabriel, but the archangel was looking a little pale and breathing heavy.

"Gabriel, what's wrong?"

"I was going for a chandelier," he huffed out. That meant that Gabriel's powers were limited, which was not a good thing. Not good at all. "Just keep walking. I wanna get out of here ASAP." Sam wasn't going to argue with that, so he started walking. Ten minutes later, they were still walking down a really long hallway that the original building he'd seen could never have had. Was this entire place an illusion? Or was the smaller building supposed to mask its true size? Sam tried not to think of a blue box as he poked his head inside of another door only to find it empty. Just like all the others.

"This is ridiculous. Can you sense anything?"

"No can do, Sambo. I'm flying blind here." Sam opened door number fifty-seven and finally caught a break. There was a tomb laid out against the back wall, which has to be a good sign since all the other rooms have been completely bare. Sam took three steps inside and heard the big door he'd opened clank closed. That wasn't what had him turning around. It was the sound of an angry squawk, and Sam instantly realized why. Gabriel was chained to the door. Thick manacles were around his wrists and ankles with heavy chains around his thighs, stomach, and throat.

"Gabriel!" He went to step forward to try and get him free, but the archangel quickly shook his head. "But you're—"

"He's a big boy, Sam. He can take care of himself." The voice came from behind him, and Sam had to close his eyes to keep his breathing even and his stomach down. He slowly shuffled back around, turning his back on Gabriel, and opened his eyes.

"Ruby."

**EMMA**

"Where are we?" Technically, she was standing on a lawn in front of the most rundown church she'd ever seen. There was even a man, who looked like he'd been homeless since birth, propped up next to the front door. A few of the windows were broken, and the sharp edges gleamed in the heavy sunlight. Somewhere in the distance, there was a baby crying.

"Honduras. San Pedro Sula, to be exact." Emma twisted her head to look at the archangel and felt her nose wrinkling in slight confusion. Yeah, it wasn't the nicest looking place, but it wasn't what she expected for War's hideout.

"So, he's in the rundown church? Why would a Horseman hide in a church?"

"I don't know his reasons, only his location. We should hurry." Emma walked alongside the archangel and walked up the few steps very carefully; they looked like they could collapse at any minute. She paused in front of the door and just took in the chipped wood. Huh, it looked like someone had stabbed the door.

"Shouldn't go in there." Dark brown eyes looked down and to the right, and fuzzy brown eyes looked up and right at her. The stench of alcohol and everyday living was all over the man, but Emma has smelled worse. She's pretty sure she has at least.

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's evil."

"Whole world is full of evil," was all Emma said before marching inside. Michael stayed at her side as they looked around, but it just looked like a church. One of the back pews was actually broken in half and the whole place smelled like smoke, but it was still just a church. Michael moved away from her, and Emma watched the strong line of his shoulders. What? She just wants to see where he's going, that's all. Honest. The archangel stopped on the far side of the room and stood staring at the wall. It was a little creepy. Emma slowly inched over to stand at his side, glanced at the blank wall, and then looked up at him.

"You can't see the door." Dark hazel eyes looked over at her, and Emma turned away to look at the wall again. Just looked like a wall to her. She couldn't even see a seam or something.

"'Fraid not. That's probably a bad sign. Or a good one, I guess." Michael reached a hand out to press against the space and then looked at her again, but Emma still didn't see anything. She shook her head and tried to figure out how she was supposed to get a Horseman's ring when she couldn't even see the door he was hiding behind.

"Put your hand next to mine." Emma startled at the voice and did just as he asked. Her thumb lightly brushed his as she pressed her palm flat against the wood, but it wasn't wood. A dull pressure popped inside of her head. Her hand was pushing against metal, a really big metal door. Together, they pushed it open and stepped inside.

"Wow, fancy." The room was empty except for what Emma could only describe as a small tomb made out of black marble up against the back wall, and she was so busy staring at it that she didn't even bother to turn around when the door closed. That is, until she heard Michael's quiet grunt. Thick iron bands held him to the door, and Emma's panicked eyes met his angry ones.

"Don't worry about me."

"Don't worry about you? You're chained to a door, and there's no way I can push off that marble top by myself," Emma said hurriedly. This was so not good. This was in a completely different universe from good.

"Big brother will be just fine, but you? Hell is gonna be a cakewalk compared to what I'm going to do to you." Emma whirled around and backed up so fast that she fell into Michael, and her mouth dried out as she took in the sight in front of her.

"You're supposed to be with Sam. What are you doing here, Gabriel?"

**SAM**

"Sam. I've missed you." Big eyes watched him with a small smile; a smile that he once thought made the demon look almost human. The flashlight he'd been holding slipped from his fingers and broke as it hit the ground, but he didn't need it anymore. There was light in this room coming from a single bulb in the ceiling.

"You're dead. I watched Dean kill you." His voice was strong, but his fingers were shaking. This couldn't be real. Ruby was _dead_. He'd held her as his brother stabbed her and didn't let go until she was gone.

"Aw, come on, Sam. We both know that dead things don't always stay that way." No, something else had to be going on. Gabriel warned him that this wasn't going to be exactly easy, but he never would've expected this. He can play along though.

"Okay. Why are you here?" She kept smiling as she stepped forward, and Sam had to force himself to stay still. If he backed up, he'd run into Gabriel.

"Isn't it obvious, Sam? Lucifer's going to be free soon, and I'm going to stick around to enjoy it this time." He really wanted her to stop saying his name so easily. His hands twitched, itching to grab the knife hidden inside his jacket so he could stab her one more time, but he held still.

"What makes you think he's going to get free?" She was right in front him now and looking up at him. He could smell the coconut shampoo she always used and the subtle hints of leather from her favorite jacket. Ruby ran her fingers up the buttons of his shirt, and Sam felt his fight-or-flight instincts warring.

"You can fool them, Sam, but you can't fool me," she whispered. At his blank look, she kept going. "You'll do everything you can, with the _best_ of intentions, but the end will be the same. You'll give in and open yourself up to him. You can tell me the truth. You miss it, don't you?"

"No." It was said quickly, but the single word sounded weak even to Sam's ears. Ruby's smile lit her dark eyes up, and Sam swallowed at the feeling of a soft palm cupping his cheek. When did he close his eyes?

"Even when you don't think about it, it's there. Scratching at the back of your mind. It's okay, Sam. You can't fight who you are. Just go with it. Be who you were meant to be."

The worst part? Ruby, or whoever this was, wasn't wrong. The craving was always there but he just ignored it, because that was a road he was never going to go down again. Not after he's tried so hard to be _good_. He got it, he really did. The demon blood was so ingrained in his system that he was never going to be washed clean, but he could fight it. What other choice did he have? Go back to drinking demon blood? No, he'd thought that he was doing the right thing back then but he knew the truth now. During those months that Dean was gone and up until Lucifer was set free, Sam was more demon than anything. Definitely wasn't fully human.

"I saw you before you said yes to Lucifer, you know. All that blood rushing through you, and you were so strong. So damn strong, Sam. You could be that strong again. It'd be easy. Just one little drop and all that guilt would wash away." Sam jerked back just as a thumb brushed the corner of his lips, and he spun away from Ruby. His sleeve harshly rubbed against his skin, and he glared down at the small stripe of blood coloring the light fabric.

"Stay away from me!" Ruby raised a brow at him as she stopped walking forward, and Sam felt his stomach sinking. It'd been so close, just on the edge.

"I can see what all of them can't. They think that you're okay, perfectly content little Sam, but they're all so blind. You're a mess in there, aren't you? All torn up inside." He drug his fingers across the side of his face, just to make sure it was all gone, and then stared down at his palm. Ruby was inching towards him again, but he couldn't get his legs to move.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He met her eyes in complete defiance, and she lightly shook her head without looking away from him.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You keep thinking about all the people you saved while Dean was gone, all those meat suits that got to go home instead of just being more collateral in a never ending war. You keep thinking about all that strength pulsing through you, building you up. Wanna know what I think? Dean made you stop because he didn't care. Your big brother doesn't care about saving lives; he just cares about the kill."

"Don't talk about him!"

"Don't be so dense, Sam! Did you really think Dean would come back from Hell the same? I've been to Hell, and I know how it changes people. You were getting in his way, so he put a stop to it. Why else would he be against something that _saved_ people?"

"Because it wasn't right." It wasn't right. Even when he thought he was doing something good, he was being manipulated so that he could help Lucifer get free.

"And killing people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time is? You're going to give in, Sam, you always do. Why keep putting yourself through this? Just a taste." Sam looked up from his feet, because he hated having to look at her, and saw red. Blood was dripping from a deep cut in Ruby's forearm, and she was holding the bloody limb up like an offering. The smell, the remembered taste, hit Sam right in the chest. His knees buckled and hit the hard floor, and he reached up to press his hands against his eyes. This wasn't real. This wasn't real.

"Just leave me alone." Small fingers pushed his hair back and swept over his jaw, and that thick smell was getting stronger.

"It's okay, Sam. I'll take care of you. It'll be like old times. You and me, saving people." Her voice was so soft, like it used to be at night when she let him hold her. Back when he fell asleep with a soft body pressed against his and his veins buzzing with warmth.

"I can't."

"Yeah, you can. It's so easy. Just let me take care of you, okay? I can take care of you, Sam, and make all that guilt go away. We'll be happy together," her soft voice said as fingers brushed over his lips. They were dry, but he could still smell her blood. The scent of it coated the back of his throat, and his lips parted.

"Sam! Stab the demon bitch!" The strong voice jolted him backwards, and he stared up at Ruby as her nails caught on his chin. The quick sting cleared away some of the fog in his head, and he felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. "Come on, Sam! Get rid of her!"

"Gabriel?" Oh God, _Gabriel_. The archangel had seen and heard everything; he knew how weak Sam really was. Shame burned through him and helped his head clear even more, and he reached into his jacket as Ruby's head turned to look at the archangel.

"I'm not the one that killed his brother, so if he needs to get rid of anyone, it's you." Gabriel's laugh was sharp in the quiet of the room, and Sam's fingers slipped against the blade.

"I was just trying to keep him away from _you_."

"And you failed." She was still smiling when Sam pushed the blade through her heart, and shocked eyes looked down at him before her head snapped back in a scream. The scream turned into a high-pitched wail, and Ruby's body fell to the ground. Well, someone's body fell to the floor. The woman lying in front of him looked nothing like Ruby; her hair was shorter and blonde, her glazed over eyes were a dull blue, and she was wearing a long dark orange gown.

"What the—" The sound of footsteps made his head snap up, and golden eyes stopped on him for a moment before looking down at the woman.

"Disciple of Melinoe. See?" Gabriel pointed to the woman's chest, right under the base of her throat, and Sam leaned forward to get a closer look. It was a triangular symbol, and Sam tried to search his memory of the many Greek goddesses.

"Wasn't she a moon goddess?" He chanced a look up at Gabriel, but the archangel wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Bringer of nightmares and madness. Come on, Samsquatch, on your feet." A strong hand cupped his elbow and pulled him to his feet, and Sam tried not to sway in place. Now that the woman was dead, his head was clear and pounding. The skin around his temples and eyes felt hot, tight.

"Gabriel, I—"

"I won't tell anyone what happened, but we _will_ be talking later. Right now, let's get this ring and get the hell out of dodge." His hand dropped away, and Sam wiped the knife against the inside of his jacket before tucking it back into place. Together, they were able to push the lid of the tomb open and peer inside. There was a skeleton lying inside, and the ring was sitting on top of its sternum. "What are you waiting for? A written invitation? Pick it up!"

"Can't you do it?" Sam was going to completely ignore the slight pleading in his tone.

"_That_ is warded against angels. It's gotta be you." Sam squared his shoulders and reached inside. The ring was cool to the touch, and he slowly lifted it up. It looked a little different than the ring he remembered. This one looked older, more like something from medieval times. The silver band was heavy, and the big black stone in the center looked dull. He slipped the ring into his pocket and tuned to Gabriel.

"Can we leave now?"

"Not while we're in the building. Come on." Gabriel led the way out of the building with Sam hot in his heels, and Sam felt like he hadn't taken a single breath until they were standing back outside on the sidewalk. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw a travel agency again. A hand lightly gripped his wrist, and he opened his eyes to see his living room. His empty living room.

"Any of the others back yet?" His knees didn't buckle this time, but his legs definitely felt weak as he lowered himself onto the couch. Gabriel looked at the ceiling, hummed a bit, and then looked down at him.

"Looks like we're the first. How about that talk?"

**EMMA**

"Worried about your precious little Sammy?" Dark gold eyes swept over her as his lips quirked up into a smile, and she felt warm breath exhaling over the back of her head. She stepped away from Michael but never looked away Gabriel.

"You're supposed to be protecting him, so shoo!"

"Protecting? That's rich coming from you, princess." Emma felt her brows drawing together at that, and she took another step forward.

"Are you okay, Gabriel? Did something happen?"

"Oh, let me think about it." The archangel made a point of rolling his eyes across the ceiling while tapping a finger against his chin, and his golden eyes looked like they were on fire when he looked back at her. "I spent a couple of centuries as a whipping post for demons. Remember that, Emma? Or is that denial working overtime today?"

"You said you didn't blame me for that. I didn't know you were, you know, inside me." It was said with a slow wave over her torso to indicate her soul, and Gabriel's eyes narrowed.

"Ignorance doesn't make it right. Why didn't you just say no? I would've been better off dead." The words made a cold shock roll through her, and Emma clenched her hands at her sides. No, Gabriel couldn't have meant that. Yeah, what happened down in the Pit was fucking awful, but they were free now. They were going to be okay.

"You don't mean that." She was almost close enough to touch him now.

"Don't I? You drug me into Hell and let them destroy us, for centuries. I'll never heal from that, Emma. Never!" His sudden yell made her pull back, but the hands clamped against her shoulders wouldn't let her go far. One hand slowly moved from her shoulder to her throat, and she winced as a thumb pressed against her windpipe.

"Gab—"

"Ruined me, Emma. You let 'em carve me up and twist me all around, and you knew I was there. Have you told any of the others? Does your favorite Winchester know that you _let_ me be tortured?"

"What? No! I didn't know, Gabriel, I swear I didn't know." She was shaking all over now, and Gabriel's other hand had joined the first on her neck. He wasn't squeezing enough to cut off her airways, just enough for her to feel the pressure. This close, his eyes were bright enough to burn.

"You knew, Emma. Every time they asked you if you were ready to get down, you heard me begging. I _begged_ you, and you heard me. Why else would you last for so long? What? Did you think you were special?"

This couldn't be happening. There was no way that this was really happening. Yeah, sure, she'd felt _something_ in the Pit whenever a grinning demon would offer her an out. She'd hear the words, and they would sound so sweet. How bad could it be to torture someone that had made a deal and knew what was waiting for them in the end? It's not like she'd be cutting open someone who'd been a saint. (Excluding a certain saint that had been roasting in the Pit for over a thousand years without getting off the rack; Hell's record breaker.) She'd think something like that and struggle to fight the urge to just kill something already. That's normally about the time that she would feel it. A little push from somewhere deep inside telling her to hold on, that she was stronger than the temptation to just make it all stop. All this time she'd thought it was the last shreds of her moral conscious.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so—" The hands around her throat tightened in a bruising grip, and she struggled to breathe. Her own hands came up to tug at Gabriel's wrists, but her strength was nothing against an archangel's.

"You smile, and joke, and _breathe_ like everything is okay. Like nothing is wrong. Like Hell isn't still clawing at you from the inside out. How long do you think you'd last in the Pit without me? I bet you wouldn't reach the end of a decade."

"Gabr'el." She could barely suck a breath down now, and the edges of her vision were getting a little dark.

"I can stretch time out, and we'll see how long it takes for you to break. We can even revisit the classics, for old time's sake. A little waterboarding with your blood, turn you into a skin sack. Hey! Maybe I'll feed you your own eyeballs so you can see just how fucked up your soul is from the inside."

Looking into Gabriel's eyes was like looking into the sun, complete with black spots peppering the rest of her vision. Dying like this wouldn't be so bad. It'd be better than a hellhound's teeth, and Gabriel had every right to kill her. He came to her for help because he was hurt, and what did she do? She wrote it off as an I'm-about-to-die dream and promptly forgot about it. She was a hunter, for crying out loud! If anyone knows to always question out of place dreams, it's a hunter. No, instead she drug an angel into Hell and let him get chopped to bits. She hopes she goes back to Hell. She belongs in Hell; she belongs on the rack. The hands tightened even more, and this was it. This was the end. For good this time.

White hot pain raced up from her hip, and Emma jerked in Gabriel's hold. Her hip was on fire, right where…Michael's handprint was. The burned scar felt like it'd been set on fire, and Emma struggled against the pain. She could handle the lack of oxygen, that's one of the more peaceful ways to go when you think about it, but she can't help but to buck against this. She wiggled enough that Gabriel's hands loosened the smallest bit, and she sucked in a painful breath. Now it felt like her throat and chest was on fire too, but she didn't get to breathe for long. The hands at her throat closed in again, and Emma tightened her grip on Gabriel's wrists as she shifted around.

"It's not Gabriel, Emma! You have to kill him!" That was Michael's voice. Michael was with her, but he was chained to the door.

"You can't kill me, can you, Emma? Not after all the Hell you put me through." Gabriel smiled at his little pun, and Emma groaned as her vision darkened again. This wasn't Gabriel. Michael said this wasn't Gabriel, and he would never command her to kill his brother. So this couldn't be Gabriel. Emma let her hands fall to her sides, and she caught the bright smile on not-Gabriel's face. He thought she was giving up, because why wouldn't she? She was ready to die a minute ago. A small part of her was still ready, but she'd be damned if some imposter got in the killing swing. Slim and steady fingers gripped the gun at the small of her back, and the whatever-he-was in front of her was still smiling when she pulled the trigger.

Emma fell when he did, and she was careful not to jostle her gun too much as she was pulled to the floor. The hands at her throat slipped away, and Emma scrambled to the side to get off the now dead body. It was a woman. A woman with long brown hair and wearing a light orange dress. Almost peach colored. It really hadn't been Gabriel. Emma just sat still, cold concrete under her ass, and sucked in deep lungfuls of air. Now that she could breathe easier, her head felt a bit clearer. The start of what was going to be the mother of all migraines was pounding against her skull, but she felt…airier. She was staring at the triangular marking on the woman's sternum when she felt Michael's presence at her side. She looked up the long line of his body to meet his eyes and tried not to flinch away. She'd completely forgotten about the other archangel while the Gabriel lookalike tried to kill her.

"We still need to retrieve the ring, Emma. I can't touch it."

"Did you know that would happen? And what the hell is that?" Emma shakily got to her feet and winced as blood pulsed in her temples.

"I would have warned you if I had known, and that is a disciple of Melinoe. A Greek goddess known as the bringer of nightmares and madness," Michael explained as he walked to the back wall. Emma watched in what she suspected was numb shock while he pushed the marble slab back. Once the tomb was open, she peeked inside and wrinkled her nose. A skeleton with a ring resting on its sternum.

"Nightmares, right. Placed here to drive whoever wanders in to madness? It's smart." Emma carefully plucked the ring out and held it up so she could look at it. Big, heavy, and gold with a big red stone.

"Most people would not have been able to resist."

"What I did wasn't exactly resisting," Emma mumbled as she slipped the ring into her pocket. It was a hard press against her thigh.

"You're alive," was the angel's reply. Yeah, like that was an accomplishment. She still went bonkers and almost let herself cash out again. And for what? Just because a Gabriel lookalike spewed all of her darkest fears?

"Can we get out of here?" Dark hazel eyes peered down at her, studying, and Emma felt like puking. Instead she met the gaze head on for about five seconds and then marched out of the room. She waited as Michael stepped out of the room and watched as the door closed, and she was staring at a blank wall a moment later. Like the door was never even there. Her feet ate up the distance to the front door of the church, and she didn't even slow down to meet the eyes next to the door that were watching her every move. The homeless dude had been right. There was evil in there.

"Emma, I—"

"Take us back. Now." The shock was wearing off and the panic was setting in, but that was no reason to snap at the archangel. So she tacked on as nicely as she could, "Please."

When Emma opened her eyes after a normal blink, they were standing in the living room. Sam was standing next to the couch with his arms crossed, but Emma barely even saw him. All she could see was Gabriel, sitting on the couch. Golden eyes met hers before sweeping down her face, widened a bit, and then looked to his brother. She heard him speaking to Michael (_"What happened to her neck?"_), but the words didn't register. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she scrambled around the coffee table and then she did fall once she reached him. She wrapped her arms around one of his legs and pressed her face against a denim covered knee, but she didn't cry. She was hyperventilating and freaking out a bit, but she wasn't crying.

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

**Finis: **It took me forever to get this chapter the way I wanted it, and I'm still not sure if I got it exactly right. Melinoe is a Greek Goddess, works with nightmares and madness, but I pretty much made up the _how_. Oh, and Gabriel and Michael weren't quiet the whole time. They were trying to get Sam/Emma's attention the whole time, but the Disciple's had some serious influence working.

I've got something special for the next chapter, so I'll try to update again soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**TIB: **Quick little warning, this chapter earns the M rating. If that bothers you, feel free to skip it.

**Handara: **Thank you as always for the review! Did you get my message?

**Lexi: **I really like giving visual descriptions, because I'm a visual person. I love little details. No Michael or Emma in this chapter, but I promise that cute little scenes are coming for them! I've already written them and everything. Thank you for the review!

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**Chapter Twelve  
****Just Blue**

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**DEAN**

"Where the hell are we?" All Dean could see was sand, sand, and more sand. Followed by…more sand! Actually, he was pretty sure that he had sand in his boots. He was never going to be able to get it all out. A year from now his boots were going to turn over and a little sand would come out, or a few grains of it would get past his thin socks and grate against his feet.

"The Sahara Desert. You cannot see the temple?" He looked away from the mesmerizing scenery to the angel at his side, who was not looking back. That was weird. Normally Cas was always staring at him whenever he talked, but not this time. He was staring straight ahead at even more sand.

"All I see is sand. Are you already seeing mirages?" Cas did turn to look at him at that, and Dean easily met the too blue stare. He's gotten used to it by now. Staring intently is just something that Cas does. No big deal.

"It must be hidden from human eyes. Give me your hand, Dean." Cas was still just staring at him, and Dean easily lifted his hand. If anyone else had made that request, he would've told 'em to shove it. Common sense, of the hunter variety, warns against just complying with strange requests. _Give me your hand_ could easily turn into him losing a hand, but he trusts Cas. Cas's own hand, warm with rough fingertips, gripped his and held it up.

"Cas, what are you—Whoa." Cas had pressed his hand up against solid air, or, at least, it looked like solid air until he touched it. Now it looked like a giant building that was almost the same color as the sand surrounding it. A temple, huh? In the middle of the desert. Whatever. He's seen stranger things. "Let's get this over with."

"We should be careful, Dean. I am severely limited in here."

"Which is why we need to get this over with. Grab the ring and get out." He pushed the door open and stepped inside, and his eyes immediately moved up to the very high ceiling. The giant building was one story as far as he could tell, but the ceiling was several feet up. As for the temple itself, it was mostly empty. Bare walls, bare floors, bare everything. It was like being outside and surrounded by sand. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

"Should we split up to cover more ground?"

"No!" At the angel's confused head tilt, Dean swiped a hand over his mouth and slowly let out a breath. "You're missing some of the angel mojo and I don't even know what I'm looking for, so it's better if we stay together."

"If you say so, Dean." The angel didn't look put out or upset at being called out on his lack of mojo, so Dean took that as a good sign and strode off with an angel at his side. There was a door at the back wall and after a sweep of the room they were in, Dean pushed it open and walked inside. The new room was identical to the first and just as empty, and so were the next fifteen. Room after room looked just alike, and Dean's patience started wearing thin at least ten rooms ago.

"If this is another dead end, I'm gonna light a match and see how long it takes for this place to burn down." He pushed open _another_ door and just stood in the doorway for a moment. This room was mostly identical, except there wasn't a door on the opposite wall. Nope, just a long stretch of brown.

"I believe you may have upset the temple." Cas better not be using that smug tone with him. Like it was his fault the place was being a bitch and jerking them around? He brought his foot down pretty hard as he started to march across the room and the floor gave out beneath him. One minute he was stomping his foot, the next he was hurtling downwards. He landed face-down on a floor that was far from soft, and he groaned quietly as he took stock of his body. Sore and bruised, but nothing major. He slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees to glance up. The room he was in looked just like all the others, and he could actually feel his blood pressure rising.

"Cas!"

"No need to shout, Dean, I'm right here." The voice came from behind him, but how? Dean fell through the floor, or the ceiling in this room, and Cas hadn't tumbled down after him. He'd remember if an angel crash landed on top of him.

The first thing he saw, since he was still kneeling on the ground, was a pair of well-worn boots. That couldn't be right. Dean tried to talk Cas into some more sensible footwear, but the angel wouldn't give up his loafers. His eyes moved from the boots to dirty blue jeans (_Cas likes his jeans a little tighter and clean_), a black tee shirt with a rip at the bottom hem and an old faded picture (_Cas likes solids and always repairs his clothes_), and a thin blue button-up hung a little past his wrists and was stained (_Cas said he likes rolling the sleeves up_). Hell, the weird wardrobe he probably could have worked with. His stomach didn't feel like it was going to drop out of his ass until he looked at the angel's face. Dark stubble on unshaven cheeks, dark circles under dark glassy eyes, and a smile that belonged on a man that had nothing left to lose.

"No, _you_ never happened!" He remembered this Cas; he was hard to forget. This was the _human_ Cas he'd seen when Zachariah zapped him to the future to twist him around and get him to say yes to Michael. That reality never happened though. Lucifer was in the Cage and the croatoan virus never spread. Cas's loud laugh snapped him out of it, and he stared up at him.

"Man, you just don't get it, do you, Dean? I happen in every possible version of your future. Know what the common denominator is?" Cas's knees popped as he squatted down, and all Dean wanted to do was look away from his too dark eyes. Cas's eyes were _blue_, not nearly black. "It's you, Dean. Doesn't matter what you change, not really, because I'll keep following you. Even when you decide that I'm useless and expendable, I'll still be at your side."

"No." It was all he could think to say, because this couldn't be right. That other Dean, the dick, might've let Cas die for a distraction. He wouldn't though. Cas had helped him, helped Sam, and he was family, goddammit!

"It's already happening. I'm getting more and more human every day. You've noticed, right?"

"You changed clothes, so what?" Cas's head tilted to the side and black greasy hair fell over his forehead.

"That's not all you've noticed. Clothes, food. I think my sense of humor started getting better around now too. Know what comes next? You try to avert another apocalypse, and you fail. Again. Don't look at me like that, you failed last time. You might have been able to toss Lucifer down before anything too bad could happen, but you still failed. If another archangel hadn't been conveniently hiding in the Pit, you would've lost two brothers. You'll fail this time too."

"We've got more angels on our side this time." The argument sounded weak even to his ears, but it was true. They had Michael and Gabriel, maybe even Balthazar. They even had the King of Hell on their side!

"You think Michael is going to stay? He's going to do what's best for his family, Dean, and close Heaven. He'll give me a choice, and I'll choose to stay. For you. You will always be my choice, and it'll kill me every time." Dirty fingernails scratched against Dean's scalp as fingers tightened in his hair, and he let Cas pull his head back. His knees were aching from the fall and from kneeling for so long, but he couldn't get to his feet.

"I'd never ask you to stay." His head was tilted back, and his skin prickled all over at how exposed his throat was. Cas's eyes looked dead.

"But you would, wouldn't you? Won't be able to let your angel fly away, until I'm not an angel anymore. Then you'll use me up and toss me away like all your other whores, and I'll still stay. I'll stay until you finally put me out of my misery." His smile made Dean feel sick, and a dirty hand pressed against the side of his face. "Maybe I should end you now and set myself free. What do you think?"

"What are you—" A fist snapped his head to the side, and Dean immediately spit out a mouthful of blood. The hit didn't have Cas's usual angelic strength, but it was still enough to cut his cheek against his teeth. Fingers gripped his chin to turn his head back and then dipped down to grab the collar of his shirt. Dean caught another flash of a smile before Cas's fist whipped his head around again, and the hits kept coming.

The hand curled around his shirt kept him upright as Cas's fist kept swinging, and he even took a few hits to the ribs from those ugly ass boots. It felt like hours had passed before Cas slowed to a stop, and Dean's head fell back so he could look up at him with his only open eye. His entire face felt hot and stretched from the swelling, his nose was definitely broken and letting hot blood drip into his mouth, and at least one of his ribs had snapped in two. Cas kept one hand wrapped around his shirt, to keep him from falling over, and the other gripped his hair with bloody fingers.

"I think I like it better when you're the one beaten down. It's a good look on you, Dean." He reached up to grab a wrist, the one keeping a tight hold on his collar, and used his tongue to push some of the blood out of his mouth.

"I beat you?" The wrist under his hand was too thin. Dean was the first one to call Cas a nerdy little dude, but he knew Cas wasn't thin. The new outfits proved it. Cas's skin shouldn't be so thin that he can feel the sharp jut of his bones.

"Mentally. Physically. Spiritually." Each word was punctuated by a flexing of the hand in his hair, and Dean wouldn't be surprised if he had a bald spot. Not that it mattered. "I saved you, Dean, and you damned me."

"Then what are you waiting for? Finish me off." Dean's voice was all growl through his split lips, and Cas drug a hand down his knotted up cheek.

"Oh, I will, but why should I make it quick? You took your sweet time ending me. You dragged it out for _years_."

"Cas—" The floor under his knees shook, and there was a high pitched ringing in his ears. If there'd been any glass in the room, it would have shattered. Dean _knows_ this ear shattering screech and remembers what it's like to be surrounded by shuddering walls; he just hasn't seen it since that first time Cas tried to communicate with his true voice. His true angelic voice, because Cas is somewhere over his head. The real Cas and not this human imposter; the human imposter who is backing away now with his hands clapped over his ears. Dean pulled his Colt from his jacket, fired one shot, and watched Cas fall to the ground with an extra hole in his head.

"Dean, what happened?" He was still kneeling on the floor, gun laying at his side, and his head felt three sizes too big. Cas was standing in front of him, the _real_ Cas. Dark blue jeans that were a size away from being skinny, a plain green tee shirt that he really seemed to like, and those black loafers that he never took off anymore. Light stubble, clean black hair sticking up like he'd stuck his head out the window of a moving car, and blue eyes. Not dark, not glassy, just blue.

"Cas?" He tried not to flinch away as Cas raised his hand, and he saw Cas's flash of guilt before determination set in. His hand, dirt free, pressed against the wrecked side of his face. He gripped onto his wrist as a cool breeze flowed through him, but he didn't let go when the aches were washed out of him. The wrist in his hand felt _stronger_. He could still feel the press of bone, but less sharply.

"It wasn't me." Cas heard. He heard what the other Cas had said, about how Dean was going to ruin him. Use him up until nothing was left.

"He was right, wasn't he? You'd stay if I asked. Should just kill me now and save your future self the trouble."

"Dean—"

"I won't be the one that kills you!" The angel hit his knees as his other hand came up to Dean's face, and Dean was still holding onto his wrist. Green eyes clenched shut as Cas pressed their foreheads together and strong fingers pushed against the back of his neck.

"I stay because I want to. What you saw was an illusion, a nightmare brought on by a disciple of Melinoe. It wasn't me. I would never hurt you, Dean." And that was the kicker, wasn't it? Cas would never hurt him, but that didn't mean Dean wouldn't hurt him.

"Get away from me." Maybe, if he started keeping Cas away now, the angel could be saved.

"No." It was said easily, and Dean cracked his eyes open. This close, his eyes crossed as they tried to focus on Cas's. He didn't even mind, because Cas's eyes were blue. "_Dean_."

He was moving before he'd even thought about what he was going to do. It didn't take much to reach Cas's lips, they were already so close, but he was still surprised at how easy it was. Cas's lips were warm, dry, and unmoving. Dean pulled away, because what was he doing? Kissing an angel after his human lookalike beat the shit out of him? He was trying to put more space between them, he needed to breathe and think, when the hand on his neck tightened and held him in place. His lips parted to form a question out of the angel's name, but rough lips pressed against his. Cas's hands were warm against his face and neck, and his lips pressed forward like he was trying to prove something. Dean shifted, just enough to tilt his head, and they slotted into place. Dry lips pulled at his bottom lip, and Dean's hands moved down to grab at Cas's hips.

"Cas, we—" Now lips were dragging across his top one, and Dean swiped his tongue across Cas's bottom lip. It softened under the little licks, slick slides that tasted like cherry from that damn sucker, and Cas's quiet groan ripped through him. This was _Cas_, because there was no mistaking that gruff sound for anyone else, and he couldn't stop. He pushed forward to chase that taste and felt warm skin against his palms. The swell of Cas's hipbones were hot under his hands, and he used the hold to pull him just a little bit closer. An arm was wrapped around his neck and fingers pulled at his short hair, and the little bursts of pain just made him want more.

"_Yes. More. Dean."_ The rough voice was in his head, because he was still trying to map out every taste in the angel's mouth, and this time it was him that groaned into the kiss. He was kissing Cas, and Cas was kissing back, and Cas was gripping the mark burned into his left arm. He pulled back enough to catch a breath before dragging his lips across the light stubble on Cas's cheeks. The rough feel of it made his wet lips tingle, and he felt Cas's fast breaths across his cheek. He kissed, licked, and bit his way across Cas's jaw until he could press his nose behind Cas's ear. Cas didn't smell fruity or sweet the way women did. He smelled like sheets that dried in the sun and clean sweat.

"Fuck, Cas, what are we doing?" The words were breathed against his ear, and Dean moved his hands to feel the bare expanse of the angel's back. Strong. Warm. Soft.

"Don't stop. Dean, I need…_Dean_." And how could Dean argue with that? He dug his fingers into Cas's back, right under the curve of his shoulder blades, and pulled the angel against him. Fingers pulled at his hair as the other hand moved down his face, and Cas's thumb pressed against the hinge of his jaw as he moved forward to kiss him again. Cas's lips were softer now, and Dean tried not to groan as Cas's tongue brushed across his top lip. He parted his lips for the angel, his angel, and felt his hips roll. Shit, when did he get so hard? When did _Cas_? Fuck, that was Cas's cock against his, and why were they wearing jeans?

Dean's hands scrambled against the top of Cas's jeans and tugged at the button, the zipper. Cas kept one hand on his face, pressing under his jaw and holding him still, and Dean felt knuckles brushing against his as Cas hurriedly pulled at his jeans. It was almost like a race to see who could get the others' jeans down faster, and why did Cas have to wear such tight jeans? Yeah, they made his ass look amazing, but…he'd been checking out Cas's ass? A warm hand curled around his cock as Cas's tongue traced over the roof of his mouth, and Dean shoved his hand down Cas's pants without even pulling them down. Cas pulled back enough to breathe against his lips, and Dean rocked his hips forward. Cas's grip was firm but slow, like he'd never done this before, and that thought shouldn't have had him arching forward and groaning low in his throat.

"Do it again," he whispered against spit slick lips. He wanted to hear him again, in his head. Wanted to hear Cas's fucked out voice inside of him while he touched his angel's cock. "C'mon, Cas, let me hear you."

"Dean." He shook his head, just enough for their lips to brush and drag, and tightened his hand. Cas was mirroring his grip and speed, letting Dean show him what to do, and it wasn't enough. He needed…fuck, he needed everything. He let go of Cas long enough to roughly push his jeans down, yanked his own down, and pushed their cocks together. Cas cried out as his hips bucked, and Dean hissed at the feeling of another cock dragging against his own. It was different but good, so fucking good, because it was Cas.

"Wanna hear you, Cas. Like before. C'mon." He was holding both of them now, swiping his fingers across their heads to make the grip slicker, and he felt Cas's fingers bumping against his own. He dropped his head onto Cas's shoulder, felt soft cotton against the sweat built up on his forehead, and looked down. He could see the veins in Cas's hand as he moved, could see the way Cas's cock moved against his own between their hands, and he wanted to come. Needed to come. But not yet. Needed to hear him again. Cas's other hand moved up to grip his arm, and he felt it when his hand matched up perfectly over his mark. The skin felt hot and so good, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't come, not until…

"_Now, Dean. Come for me. Now!_"The angel's raspy voice filled his head, a growling and completely wrecked sound, and he did that. He shifted up to bite down against Cas's shoulder as he finally let go, and he heard Cas's groan against his ear as if the sound had been actually ripped out of him. He wiped his hand against the inside of his shirt before moving it to Cas's back, and he felt the way his skin shifted with each breath as they came down.

"Have you always been able to read my mind?" Dean's voice sounded just as fucked out as Cas's, but he didn't have the energy to care. He _was_ fucked out.

"Only when I touch the mark." Cas squeezed against the burn before sweeping down his arm, and they spent a minute just resting against one another. When Dean finally got the strength to pull back, Cas looked straight ahead at him with blank eyes. No, not blank. Guarded. Did Dean do something wrong?

"Cas, you okay?"

"Don't regret what we did." Dean has a no chick flick moments rule, and it's a rule that he lives by. For Cas, he can make an exception. Just this once. Because this is kinda big, and Cas isn't the best with social interactions.

"I'm not going to regret what we did. Are you going to?" Cas blinked and his blue eyes were open. Confused, but that was better than hiding behind a wall.

"Never."

"Good, because I want it to happen again. And again." Cas's head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed, and he had a determined look when he straightened.

"I don't share." Dean wasn't good with commitment. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to have when you traveled the country killing the things that go bump in the night, but this was Cas. An angel of the Lord. A male angel of the Lord, but he could deal with that. What? You can have experimental years without going to college. Not that he ever experimented very far, more just looking and appreciating, but it's _Cas_. Cas is the exception to most of the rules.

"I don't either. Now, can we get out of here?" At Cas's nod, he reached forward and fixed Cas's pants. Once the angel was safely tucked away, he did up his own jeans and shakily got to his feet. Cas was standing next to him, and they both looked down at the body on the ground. He'd just gotten off with an angel in the same room as a dead body. He was more fucked up than he realized, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He was just glad the body didn't still look like Cas. Instead it was a woman with brown hair and wrapped up in a bright orange sheet. Well, it was probably supposed to be a dress.

"We need to retrieve the ring." There was a tomb at the back of the room, and Cas pushed the top off. "The ring is warded against angels. I can't touch it."

"Lucky me." The big golden ring, with a dull green stone, was sitting on the skeleton's sternum. Dean scooped it out and pushed it down into his pocket, and he turned around to find a way out. There was a door across the room, just like in all the rooms, and Cas just looked at him. Okay, worth a try. When he pushed it open, he was greeted by bright sunlight and an endless amount of sand. Why couldn't it have been that easy to get in? Dean stepped back onto the sand, and the temple disappeared into nothing after Cas stepped outside.

"Before we go." Dean turned to hear the rest of the sentence, but Cas pulled him forward with a tight grip on his belt loops. The sticky mess on his skin and shirt disappeared as Cas bit at his lips, and Dean reached up to sink his fingers into Cas's hair. It was as thick and soft as he thought it would be. "Now we can leave."

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**Finis: **I thought it'd be interesting to see what Dean went through on his quest, so this chapter happened. I thought about using Sam as Dean's fear (something bad happening to Sam), but I really wanted to write the Cas from "The End." So, yeah. Sorry if the smut scene bothered anyone, but I was in the zone and it just happened. The next chapter will pick right up with Sam and Emma.

Also, I have a serious pet peeve about Cas being called a little skinny dude. Have you seen Misha Collins shirtless? He might be lean, but he ain't little.

Oh, I forgot to mention last chapter, I chose the locations of the Horsemen for a reason. I do think that Famine would love Vegas, because I'm sure there's a lot of emptiness trying to be filled in that city. War is in San Pedro Sula because it's the murder capital of the world (currently). As for Pestilence, I just wanted Dean complaining about sand, so no deeper meaning there. I'm sure I could make one up, but I don't want to lie to you wonderful people. Dean complaining about little things like sand and sanitation is one of my guilty pleasures, kinda like domestic Dean is. So, yeah.


	13. Chapter 13

**TIB: **No warnings for this chapter. It's a little emotional but mostly fun, to make up for Sam and Emma's last chapter.

**Handara: **Thanks for the review! I always worry about over describing, so I'm glad my many descriptions are helping you out! Dean and Cas might not be the main focus of the story, but I've gotta give them some loving! At least every once in a while, and that whole chapter was so much fun to write so I'm glad you liked it!

**wheeljacksgirl:** I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so much! Rereading too? You're amazing! I hope you like the new update and thanks for the review!

**Lexi:** I might not write from Dean's POV a lot, but I definitely will when I feel like he needs a little spotlight. Plus, writing him and Cas is so much fun! Thank you for the review!

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**Chapter Thirteen  
****Doozy Of A Day**

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**SAM**

"_How about that talk?"_

He couldn't have this kind of talk with Gabriel right now. The others could be back at any second, and he already felt raw inside. Like his insides had been scooped out and then rammed back down his throat. His skin was tight and itchy, and Gabriel was looking down at him like he cared. Which, let's be honest, was laughable. The archangel loved to torment him; he'd wanted him to let the devil in and let the big fight play out. Gabriel didn't care. If he really wanted him to stay away from Ruby after Dean died, like he said back in the _travelagencymasoleumrot_, he would have stepped in and kept it from happening. But he didn't. So Gabriel could take his talk and shove it.

"No. I don't have to explain myself to you." Sam didn't even bother to look at him as he said it, but he felt the couch cushion sink as more pressure was put on it. He could feel the heat from Gabriel's body, and he quickly got to his feet.

"Sam, you need to talk about this. Why haven't you told anyone?" Damn him and his quiet voice! Gabriel doesn't care. He's probably just worried about himself. Worried that Sam will go dark side again and fuck up the big plan.

"Told anyone what? That I still crave demon blood? That I feel so dirty inside that I'll never be clean? I still blame myself for the Apocalypse. I still have nightmares about Lucifer wearing me to the prom. They're my problems, and I will deal them. Don't worry, I won't fuck up this time and try to end the world." He was aware that his arms were crossed tightly over his stomach, like he was trying to keep something vital from spilling out, and it hurt to breathe. Was he still so messed up from what Ruby said? (But it wasn't Ruby. It was just Sam's worst nightmare come to life.)

"Sam—" Gabriel was cut off as Michael and Emma appeared, and Sam let out a relieved breath. Then he caught sight of Emma. Her eyes were huge in her pale face, and dark red marks were laced around her throat. If they went unhealed, they'd turn into dark bruises. "What happened to her neck?"

Michael didn't have a chance to answer as Emma suddenly moved, and she nearly tripped over her feet as she tried to get around the coffee table. Sam waited for her to surge forward and hug Gabriel, but she fell to her knees in front of him instead. Sam mentally winced at the impact that was sure to leave more bruises on her knees and watched with shocked eyes as she wound her arms around Gabriel's leg. Her forehead pressed tight against the archangel's knee, and her back shook as her breathing quickened. It looked like she was headed for a full-blown panic attack, and Sam looked over at Michael. The older archangel was watching Emma with a lost look in his eyes, like he didn't know how to help.

"I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what, sugar bear?" Gabriel's voice was still soft, and he placed a hand against the back of Emma's neck since her hair was balled up on top of her head. The little hunter immediately stiffened and went completely still, and Michael took a single step forward before stopping. What was going on? Did Emma have a weird illusion like he did?

"In the Pit, I could feel something. I could always feel something when they asked me to get off the rack. I wanted to get off _so_ bad, and I didn't care who I had to torture to do it, but there was always something. I could always feel it, and it was you. You kept me from saying yes for centuries. I _felt_ you the entire time, and I never tried to save you. I'm so sorry, Gabriel. I'm sorry. Don't deserve to be topside. Should still be in Hell, on the rack, for what I let them do to you."

"You didn't know, Emma." Gabriel's hands were still moving over Emma's back, and Sam felt completely lost.

"Ignorance doesn't make it right." It was said with a full body shudder, and Michael did step around the table at that. He gently pulled Emma away from Gabriel's leg and lifted her up into his arms, and Emma just kept repeating that she was sorry.

"I think she's still suffering from the disciple's influence. You should check Sam," Michael said quietly. He was only using one arm to hold Emma up so that the other one could press against her cheek. He turned to walk away, and Sam was still feeling a bit lost as Gabriel called out his brother's name. Michael didn't turn around, but he did pause.

"Who did she see? Who did that to her?"

"You did." And with that, the oldest archangel quickly left the room with Emma mumbling in his arms. The person conjured specifically to torture Sam was Ruby, the demon who convinced him that he could save people by drinking a little blood when she really just wanted him to spring Lucifer. For Emma, it was _Gabriel_. She'd let someone who looked like Gabriel put his hands around her throat.

"Will she be okay?" Gabriel was still sitting on the couch and looking at where Michael had walked off to, and his golden eyes were a little darker than usual when he looked over at him.

"Michael will take care of her. Now, hold still. Need to make sure you're influence-free." Gabriel was already getting to his feet, and Sam held his arms a little closer to his body.

"I'm fine." He'd barely gotten the words out before a hand was curling around his wrist, where it was pressed against his stomach, and another was pressed against his cheek. His eyes fell closed without his permission, and he tried to hold still as he felt something pushing against his mind. Was that Gabriel? Trying to see inside his head?

"Just relax. I'm only clearing it out." Some of the pressure gave way, and he thought about what happened earlier. Felt the warm splash of blood against his face and heard Ruby's voice digging into his gut, bringing all his worries to light. Feeling all the shame and guilt he'd been trying so hard to bury. Thinking about the demon blood he'd been fed before he was even a year old so that it was now inside of him forever, turning him into an abomination. "Such a glutton for punishment. Shoulda told me this was bothering you so bad. We could've had this cleared up a week ago. Hold still, Sambo."

"What are you—" Bright light shone through his eyelids and made him want to flinch back, but he couldn't move.

Ice pulsed through his veins, scratching under his skin, and made him shiver. He felt like he was struggling, but he was standing completely still. He could feel Gabriel's palm pressing against his cheek (_warm, little rough_) and the ice was trying to rip him apart. Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to handle it, that he was going to go crazy while an iceberg set up shop in his body, there was a snap. It wasn't a quiet snap, like a rubber band after being stretched too far. It was like a bridge cracking down the middle or a volcano erupting. Then it was all over. The ice was just gone, but there was still warmth pressed against his cheek. When he finally opened his eyes, it was to gold. Emma was always comparing Gabriel's eyes to a sunrise, and he could understand why now. It wasn't just the brightness, it was the _warmth_. The gold chased the last of the ice away, and Sam realized that he was sweating and breathing a little faster than normal.

"How you feelin'?" Gabriel looked a little worried as he pulled his hands away, and Sam swayed forward a little as if to follow the warmth. He shook his head a little and took stock of his body. The pounding headache from earlier was gone, along with the feeling that he was a ticking time bomb. The things that the Ruby imposter said to him still rankled, but he didn't feel like he was on the verge of a breakdown because of what she said. He also felt…cleaner.

"Better. What did you do?" Gabriel hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his heels.

"The Melinoe disciple works with nightmares and madness. The demon chick was the nightmare, and the woe-is-me feelings was the madness. I just cleared out the rest of her influence, chilled you out, and gave your blood a small scrub."

"A small scrub? What does that mean?" The first part he could understand. Yeah, he hates the demon blood in his system and the part he played in starting the last Apocalypse, but it's something that he's had time to deal with. He hadn't been so worried about his past actions for months, until the disciple egged him on. So, influence of madness. It made sense. Blood scrubbing? Not so much.

"Just a teeny tiny bit of grace through your plasma to clean out the rest of the demon blood. Your blood is one hundred percent pure human now. Well, with a touch of angelic grace." Gabriel smiled at that, like they were sharing secrets, but to Sam he looked a little worried. Not that he was really focusing on that, because…what?

"No demon blood?"

"Not a drop." Gabriel was still just staring at him and smiling, now like he didn't have a care in the world. Like he hadn't just changed Sam's whole biology and made him feel _clean_.

"Gabriel—"

"We're back!" Sam jumped at the sound of his brother's loud voice and pulled his eyes away from the smiling archangel. Dean and Cas were standing in the middle of the living room, and Dean was smiling way too much for someone who'd been fucked with by a disciple who specialized in nightmares and madness. He was smiling, Cas was smiling, Cas's hair was even wilder looking than usual…Dean was wearing his "I just had sex" smile.

"Finally!" Gabriel must have caught on to what Sam had already noticed, because the archangel immediately started laughing and congratulated his little brother on finally nutting up. It made Cas smile and Dean splutter, and Sam felt like maybe everything would be okay.

**EMMA**

The first thing that Emma noticed when she snapped out of whatever kind of mental breakdown she was in, was a sea of pretty colors. A little blue, a little green, a little brown. Michael's forehead was pressed tight against hers, and his nose kept nudging hers. Having someone so close should be uncomfortable, but she feels okay. Her head definitely feels clearer, and she no longer has the overwhelming urge to toss herself down into the Pit. Because, wow, where did that shit come from? Her greatest fear is going back to Hell. Hell isn't her biggest nightmare though, putting _Gabriel _through Hell is. She blinked a few times, focused on the small universes hidden in Michael's eyes, and felt her body relax. She was tense, and it felt good to let go.

"What happened?" She whispered it, because talking in a normal voice with Michael _thisclose_ seemed wrong somehow. Also, they were in a bedroom. Her bedroom, to be specific. It felt like Michael was sitting with his legs crossed, and she was sideways in his lap. Yeah, whispering is definitely the go-to tone here.

"Melinoe's disciple was still influencing you, but I was able to clear your mind. Are you feeling better now?" Michael, apparently, didn't get the whispering memo. He spoke like he always did, with a quiet and even tone that made her feel like blushing for no reason. Emma pinched her thigh, since her hands were in her lap, and actually thought about what the archangel was asking her. Her last concrete memory was of…Gabriel's leg? Why was she…oh, right. She went a little bonkers and clung to Gabriel's leg like some kind of loon while spouting apologies about something they've already dealt with.

On the nights that they share a bed (instead of her sneaking into Sam's room), they wrap around one another and whisper to each other in the dark. For some reason, it's easier for Emma to talk to Gabriel about Hell when she can't see him. (The reason is Gabriel's eyes; she can't look into the sun and talk about the darkest parts of Hell.) A part of Emma will never forgive herself for what happened to Gabriel because of her, but the vast majority of her psyche has accepted it and moved on. It happened, and there's no changing it. Gabriel doesn't hate her, and that's all that matters. Then that stupid disciple had to come along and shove her worst nightmare in her face. Had to show her what it would look like if Gabriel hadn't forgave her. Still, she's dealt with it. That lingering madness thing sucked balls though.

"Yeah, I feel better now. I'm protected from curses and hexes, so how'd she put the whammy on me?" Emma was still whispering, even if Michael isn't playing along. A warm hand moved over her tattooed ribcage, and Emma's eyes slid closed. She can't look into Michael's pretty peepers and feel the warmth of his hand sinking through her tee shirt at the same time without spontaneously combusting. Seriously, as soon as she gets some free time, she's finding a nice little bar where she can get a quick little hookup. It's either that or go completely crazy. Well, even crazier than she's already been.

"The protection symbols work against the more commons forms of magic, such as those used by witches and demons. They won't work against the more ancient magics, like gods and goddesses use."

"Huh, never had to worry about them before. Should I expand even more?" Her voice was a little louder this time but still not at normal volumes. Michael's hand was still on her ribcage.

"The next time you come up against a god or goddess, just pray for me."

"And you'll come running?"

"Better, flying." Michael smiled, and Emma's world just _clicked_. She's heard things like this described in many sappy romance novels, and it's nothing like that. Her heart isn't skipping a beat, and it doesn't feel like someone dropkicked her stomach. She doesn't even feel like all is right in the world, because the world's still shit. That's how she stays in business. What she does know though is that she wants to see Michael smile like this again. No, better. She wants to be the one to make Michael smile like that again. "Emma?"

"Yeah, I'm good. We should probably get back downstairs. I need to apologize to Gabriel for cuddling his leg." Michael pulled back away from her, and Emma wiggled her way out of his lap so she could stand on her own two feet. Her head was still messed up; that has to be it. Why else would she think about Michael like he was the love of her life? She barely knows the dude, aside from the fact that he drug her ass out of Hell and then reconstructed said ass. Yeah, must be some weird savior thing for the Hell removal and cleaning the Melinoe bitch out of her head.

"I'm sure Gabriel isn't angry," Michael said from right behind her. He was still sitting on the bed, but his legs were dangling off the side now.

"No, but he's probably a little worried. We should make sure Sam and Dean are okay too." Without any kind of conscious thought, she held out her hand for the archangel to take. She didn't even realize she'd made the offer until a rough palm slid across hers, and she didn't feel like taking her hand back. Instead she curled her fingers around and gave a small tug to get him moving. Besides, it's not like holding an archangel's hand is the weirdest part of her day.

**SAM**

Emma walked back into the room just as Gabriel's loud laugh capered off, and Sam watched the way her big brown eyes took in the room. She looked at him first and smiled a little when he mouthed, _I'm okay_, at her. Then she turned to look at Dean and Cas; Dean was actually red and glaring at Gabriel, and Cas was standing at Dean's side with a calm little smile on his face like everything was okay in his world. She looked at Gabriel last, who was now looking right back at her with a nervous smile. The whole room seemed to almost freeze and then it completely exploded. Emma jumped over the coffee table at Gabriel and locked her limbs around him, and Sam's pretty sure the only reason he stayed standing was because of the whole archangel thing.

"Did we miss something?" Dean asked. His face was still red, but the heavy glare wasn't as bad.

"Stupid disciple makin' people all wacko. 'M sorry, Gabr'el," Emma mumbled into the archangel's neck. Gabriel's hands moved up to pat her back, and golden eyes flicked over to Sam's for a moment.

"We've all had a doozy of a day." This time it was green eyes looking over at him, and Sam had to push down a sigh. Looks like it's story time. Sam wound up on the couch with Gabriel's feet next to him, and Emma stayed curled up in the archangel's lap. Gabriel was propped up against the far end of the couch arm, and his feet were a warm press against Sam's thigh. Michael took one of the recliners and Dean claimed the other. Cas stood next to Dean's recliner until Dean tugged on one of his belt loops, and the angel balanced himself perfectly on the cushioned arm of the chair.

Sam went first, mostly to get it over with. He didn't go into deep detail, because no one else needed to know Ruby's every word. It was bad enough that Gabriel knew. He didn't even fully detail what just happened, with the blood scrubbing. No one knew that he'd been worried about it to begin with, so he didn't see the point in bringing it up now. When he was done, Emma quietly explained her own illusion. Just as Michael said, the disciple took Gabriel's form and blamed Emma for all the torture in Hell. Emma killed him, and Michael cleared out the influence. Dean went last and gave the least amount of detail, which was impressive considering Sam barely told anything and even Emma looked like she was holding back. All Dean said was that the imposter looked like Cas and he took care of it. The wording made Emma and Gabriel giggle, and Dean managed to sigh like a teenage girl and glare all at the same time.

"I thought the voodoo tattoos were supposed to stop things like this from happening?" Dean was looking past Sam to Emma, and the little hunter looked across the room at Michael. The archangel nodded, and Emma smiled briefly before raising her chin to meet Dean's eyes head on. Michael must have healed the bruises on her throat while he was clearing out her head.

"Apparently they don't work with gods and goddesses. You know, I never had to worry about the more exotic supernatural beings until I moved in with you two." It was said with narrowed eyes and a smile, so Sam didn't take offense. Dean just huffed and not-so-subtly moved his arm behind Cas.

"Get used to it, sister. If it exists, we'll find it."

"Or it'll find us," Sam mumbled. Emma smiled at him and twisted around to lay her head on Gabriel's chest, and he could feel toes burrowing under his thigh. Gabriel's toes, to be precise.

"Oh, good, you're all back. Didn't think to give a heads up?" Bobby dropped a small box on the coffee table and turned slowly so he could train a disapproving look on all of them, including the angelic beings.

"Sorry, Bobby. Getting the rings was a little harder than we thought it would be," Sam offered up. The older hunter huffed and dug into the small box. He threw something at each of the humans, and Sam reached up to grab it on reflex before it could smack him in the face. It was a simple chain for a necklace, silver.

"Gee, Bobby, I didn't know you cared," Dean drawled as he held his up.

"Did ya think gettin' the rings was all there was to it? Do ya have any idea how easy it would be for one of 'em angels to snap your neck, take the ring, and spring Lucifer?"

"I won't let anyone hurt Dean," Cas said immediately. Sam choked as he tried not to laugh, because this is a serious situation.

"Ya can't be with him all the time, and we need to take all the precautions we can. I found a spell that can let all of ya keep the rings on, and they won't even come off in death. Only you can remove them. Ya can't wear the actual rings, obviously, so necklaces. Now, coat 'em in blood and repeat after me."

"Whoa! Hold on! Where'd you learn how to do this?" Dean asked. Emma was holding her chain necklace up and poking it to watch it sway, and Sam was already reaching for his knife.

"I had…help."

"Crowley?" Sam asked. The older hunter looked a mix of uncomfortable and impatient, and Dean made a sound that resembled a dying bird. So, a squawk?

"I double checked the information. I'm not green, boy. This way, killin' ya won't do 'em any good." Sam looked over at Dean, who was looking at him, and nodded. He didn't see anything wrong with it, as long as they could remove the necklace (and the ring) whenever they wanted to.

"Emma? You okay with this?" Dean asked as he looked away from Sam.

"You betcha, lover boy. Let's get our blood spell on."

"The protection spells won't interfere?" Sam asked her. Emma pulled the knife from her ankle holster and popped it open as she looked at him.

"Nah, they only stop harmful spells. They don't really interfere with magic, per se." That was good enough for him.

"Now, put the rings on the necklace and start bleedin'. I don't have all day." Sam pulled the heavy ring out of his pocket and slipped it onto the necklace. He pricked his thumb and forefinger, lightly gripped the small chain in his other hand, and started smearing blood over the length of the necklace. Dean and Emma must have been doing the same, because Bobby told them what to say as they worked. Sam repeated the Latin easily and felt the chain heat up in his hand. Heat was good, right? The chain easily slipped over his head and then seemed to mold to him so that the ring rested right under his collarbones, and he repeated the final part of the spell. There was a little more heat, and it was all over.

"The chains had to be silver, didn't they? It totally clashes with the behemoth sized gold ring. I look like a trashy pimp," Emma mumbled.

"I think you look classy," Gabriel reassured her.

"Mine clashes too," Dean grumbled.

"Mine doesn't."

"You suck, Sam." Emma stuck her tongue out at him and Dean was pouting in his general direction, and Sam felt lighter than he had in years. This Apocalypse was already starting to look better than the last one.

**EMMA**

"So…tired. The sun hasn't even gone down yet. Why am I so tired?" She's not whining, not really. Okay, maybe just a little bit.

"Maybe because you took on a Greek goddess, went a little mad, and did a very powerful blood spell? Or, you know, you might just be lazy." Emma glared down the couch at Gabriel and dug her toes into his ribs. The archangel just smiled and licked his lollipop.

"Worst angel ever. Shouldn't you give me some kind of uplifting speech about how I battled evil today and conquered my greatest fears? Or something cheesy like that?"

"But _Deadliest Warrior_ is on. If I get into an epic speech, I'll never know who would win between a Viking and a Samurai."

"There's gotta be a better way to find out. Haven't you met one of each? Wait a minute, you're a Viking god!" Gabriel stopped listening after the first sentence, if his glazed look was anything to go by. Emma groaned in complete exasperation, threw her arms in the air, and then screeched when Gabriel grabbed her ankle with one hand and snapped with the other. Emma was still screeching when they appeared in the backyard, sitting on giant fluffy lawn chairs with a cooler between them.

"Grab a drink and enjoy the show!" Emma peered into the cooler, plucked out a screwdriver, and looked into the backyard. A Viking and a Samurai were facing each other, and they became a blur after Gabriel blew on a very loud whistle.

Emma was leaning on the end of her lawn chair and waving a mostly empty bottle around as she cheered for the Samurai when she felt a presence at her side, but she doesn't have time to see what's going on. She's gotta cheer on the Samurai, because Gabriel is rooting for the Viking. The chair dipped behind her as two very long legs appeared on either of her, and Emma propped her elbows up onto Sam's raised knees as she kept yelling. (She knows it's Sam without looking because, come on, no one else has legs that long.) Emma dropped her bottle as the Samurai made a swipe at the Viking's knees, and she cheered as loud as humanly possible as the Samurai stood victorious.

"Oh yeah! Take that, _Loki_!" She fell back into Sam's chest as the two warriors poofed out of the existence, and she felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

"T-Rex!" Gabriel declared. Emma tapped her knees and tried to think of something that could go against a T-Rex.

"Dragon." Emma tipped her head back to smile goofily at Sam and tried to pat the top of his head. She got his nose and decided that was close enough.

"You're on, Sambo!" With another snap of his fingers, a prehistoric dinosaur and a fire-breathing dragon appeared. Emma decided that Gabriel was the best and then immediately started rooting for the dragon.

**SAM**

"I just don't see how a ninja turtle could beat Bowser," Gabriel muttered as they walked back inside. Sam shifted Emma around in his arms as he started up the stairs and tried to picture the pout that was most definitely on the archangel's face.

"It was Leonardo." Emma passed out three fights ago, between a zombie and a vampire, but Sam and Gabriel kept going. Sam's ninja turtle broke their tie, and he was feeling a little proud. Hey, he managed to beat an archangel at something. It might've only been something as insignificant as fake fights, but Sam's counting it. He walked past Emma's room without ever thinking about stopping and moved into his own room, and Gabriel slunk in after him. Emma grumbled and huffed as she was placed on the bed, and Sam caught a flash of her waist holster. Yeah, he was not stripping her down this time.

"I'll take care of her," Gabriel sighed. Emma's jeans and tee shirt were replaced with dark blue pajamas that had little cartoon crescent moons on them, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Want a matching set?"

"I'll pass." Sam grabbed his sleep pants and disappeared into the bathroom to take care of his nightly routine. When he came out, he was only wearing the red flannel pants and his breath was minty fresh. He thought Gabriel would be long gone, off somewhere doing whatever trickster archangels do, but he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Emma had rolled over in her sleep and reached out to Gabriel, and her fingers were clutching the bottom of his button-up. Gabriel had one hand in her loose hair, and the other was skirting around the burned imprint on her hip.

"Don't worry. I'm leaving," Gabriel said without looking up.

"You, um, don't have to." Gabriel did look up at that, and Sam resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest. He's in his own bedroom. It's perfectly okay for him to not have a shirt on.

"I'm not gonna steal your bed, Gigantor. I can just take Emma's bed tonight to recharge."

"Or you can stay here with us." With that said and over with, Sam moved onto the bed behind Emma and went about getting comfortable. He's not on his usual side of the bed, but it's all the same in the end. Emma must have felt the movement, because she kicked her legs back until her feet were pressed against his shins. Sam curled up against her and placed his hand on her thigh, right over her knee.

He kept his eyes closed until the bed moved and shifted, and he knew that Gabriel was staying. The archangel moved around, and Sam peeked an eye open. Gabriel was facing Emma and had one hand resting over her side with the material of her tank top bunched up in his hand. Emma was far enough down the bed that her head came to both of their chins, so Sam met Gabriel's eyes over a tangle of dark brown hair. Gabriel wasn't smiling or teasing him; he was just staring back at him without saying a word. It wasn't Gabriel's usual behavior, but it felt natural. Sam thought about the day before they left to get the voodoo tattoos, when Emma questioned Mo.

"…_he loved more fiercely than all the others combined…Gabriel was the first to promise his love…Was he beautiful and golden? Like a sunrise?"_

He remembered the way Gabriel looked surrounded by holy fire; the way the flames were reflected in his dark golden eyes.

"…_I _loved_ my father, and my brothers. Loved them! But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left."_

Gabriel loved his family and was the first to promise his love to God's greatest creations, but Sam still had problems picturing the trickster that he first met as a brilliant archangel that loved so fiercely he ran away from Heaven just to avoid the big fight. No, the Gabriel he knew liked to give people their just desserts. When Emma first started calling Gabriel a sunrise, Sam thought she was a little crazy. Someone who didn't mind killing people (sometimes repeatedly) couldn't look like a sunrise, right? But that's the only word Emma will use to describe the youngest archangel. Sam can kinda see it now, sometimes. Gabriel's eyes will get a light in them, like now. It only happens when he looks serious, and it always makes him feel…makes him feel like he doesn't really know the archangel at all.

"Stop thinkin' so much, Sammoose, and go to sleep."

"Shut up, Gabriel."

"Both of you shut up. 'M sleepin' 'ere." Sam and Gabriel both looked down at the sleeping hunter, who just flopped over onto her stomach and buried her face against the mattress.

"Now who's gonna play with my hair?" Emma grunted, and Sam wouldn't meet Gabriel's eyes. He'd already played with the archangel's hair once, he wasn't going to get caught doing it again. Nope. Never again.

**EMMA**

She woke up with an arm smushing down her nose and messing up her usual deep breathing pattern, and she was covered in sweaty limbs. Maybe she should go back to sleeping on her own. Her eyes felt crusty and getting them open took a Herculean effort, but she finally got to take in the sights. She was lying flat on her back, and the two men on either side of her were on their sides and facing each other. Sam's arm was stretched across her face, looped around Gabriel's shoulder, and had his hand buried in the archangel's hair. Gabriel had one arm draped over her stomach so that he could reach Sam, but Sam wasn't wearing a shirt so Gabriel just had his hand braced against Sam's bare side. Then the _legs_. Their legs were tangled together on top of hers, which left her completely trapped.

"_Hey, Michael, I know you said you'd save me from pagan deities, but what about other things? Like, say, a Winchester and your little brother?" _

There was the cool grip of fingers wrapping around her wrist, the one trapped under Gabriel's side and not the one somehow wedged under her own spine, and she was suddenly cooling off. The mess of sweaty limbs was gone, and she was laying stretched out on her own bed. Michael was sitting next to her, with his legs curled under him, and a small smile on his face. Emma took a moment to wake up a little and just kept smiling at him. He was still wearing jeans and that black tee shirt, but he was barefoot now. No shoes. No socks.

"Where are your shoes?" She should've thanked him from keeping her from being buried alive by sweaty dudes, but she asks about his shoes instead. Yeah, definitely not awake yet.

"I don't like them. You took them off."

"No one should sleep with shoes on, because it's super uncomfortable. Most people put them back on after they wake up," Emma explained. Sometimes it seemed like angels knew everything about everything, and other times they made her think of cute little toddlers discovering everything for the first time.

"You don't wear real shoes," was the archangel's counter. It was a good counter too, because Emma normally just wears her flipflops.

"They're kinda like real shoes. Maybe you should try a pair sometime." She was teasing, mostly, and a little worried that Michael really would go find a pair of flipflops to wear. Who's going to take an archangel seriously when he's wearing flipflops? They've already got Cas running around in loafers. Flipflops will be a step too far. Did she just make a shoe pun?

"You prayed for me." Michael did a head tilt, and it looked just as adorable on him as it did when Cas or Gabriel did it.

"I was suffocating. Thanks for comin' to the rescue." Emma smiled at him and she watched as the archangel's brows furrowed. "What're you thinking about?"

"Gabriel enjoys meditating, and he calls it sleeping. I don't understand why."

"Well, you've done the meditating thing. You didn't like it?"

"I didn't meditate the way that Gabriel does. I was strengthening my grace. It was a very strenuous process."

"So, you've never just, uh, meditated for the fun of it?" Michael shook his head, and Emma couldn't imagine not sleeping just because. Emma _loves_ napping. She couldn't sleep in Hell, just had blackout moments, and she really missed napping. "Why don't you try it? It's relaxing, and it gives you a chance to recharge."

"Now?"

"Well, I'm not ready to wake up quite yet, so why not? C'mon, sweetheart, let's get some shut eye before another disaster strikes." Emma twisted and wiggled around until she was buried under her fluffy blanket and, she'll never admit it, but the way Michael laid down on top of the blanket was too cute for words. He looked stiff, like he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing, and Emma's always used touch for comfort. She scooted over until she was plastered against his side and nuzzled her cheek against the top of his shoulder.

"Rest, Emma."

"G'night, Michael."

* * *

**Finis: **So this chapter picks up where Chapter 11 left off. Emma and Sam were a little OOC for a reason. They're not big drama queens. When the bad guys made them hallucinate their worst fears/nightmares, some of that influence and panic got left behind. Even after the bad guys died, because it was all tied up in their brains. So the overreactions were from the disciples, not because they're overly emotional about the bad things they've done. Dean didn't have a freak out because Cas cleared out the last of his influence in a much more fun way. And I bet you thought the sexy time was just because I was in a naughty writing mood.

_Deadliest Warrior_ is an actual TV show, and I love it. I wanted them to do something fun since they got all mentally tortured last time, and that's what popped into my mind. The italicized part from Sam's POV, when they're all settling down to sleep, is from Chapter Seven of this story and from the end of 5x08 (Changing Channels).

I've got a little something-something special planned for the next chapter, so be on the look out!


	14. Chapter 14

**TIB: **No warnings for this one, it's pretty tame compared to some of the other chapters.

**Handara: **Thanks for the review! Deadliest Warrior is pretty simple. It's just taking different fighters and pitting them against each other. A Viking and a Samurai was one of the actual episodes. Haha, I wanted Emma's first prayer to be something funny and not when she's about to die, and Sam and Gabriel gave me a perfect opportunity. Well, I'm updating now and again tomorrow, so updates everywhere!

**Lexi: **I've been writing a lot lately, so the updates should keep coming. Thank you so much for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen  
****Angel Conspiracies**

* * *

**MO**

"They make me feel sick. We're fighting off the Apocalypse, and they're _snuggling_." Dark green eyes looked over at his companion, and Mo was smiling as he threw an arm around her shoulders. Meg was a complicated demon, loyal to herself above all others, but Mo has enjoyed her company these past few months. She's different than other demons while being exactly the same. It's a nice little conundrum.

"They all need something to fight for." Mo and Meg were sitting on top of the Winchester house, and they could both see inside. Could see the way that Sam and Gabriel were facing each other in sleep, limbs completely tangled. Could see the way that Emma was curled up against Michael, and the archangel laid peacefully beside her. Could see the way that Castiel sat propped against a headboard, with Dean stretched out beside him and his face pressed against the angel's stomach. Mo thought it was sweet. Everyone needed someone.

"Yeah, but they're turning us into guardian angels. We should be torturing information out of someone." Mo moved his arm around the smaller demon's back to grip her hip, and Meg eased herself against his side.

"We can always torture in the morning, love. For now, we can—"

"Snuggle?" Her smile was coupled with a raised eyebrow, and Mo dipped down to rest his cheek on top of her head.

"If you like."

**BAD GUYS**

"I am, completely, surrounded by idiots." It was said during a slow pace back and forth across the room, and Abaddon's green eyes watched in humor at the aggravated angel.

"You were the one that insisted we needed minions," she reminded him. For someone laying strapped to a table with their torso spread open, she sounded really amused. Dark eyes moved over to her, and she watched as his hands raised as if to run them through his hair. Then he noticed the blood covering his hands and streaking up his forearms, pinched his lips into a thin line, and started up pacing again.

"Maybe we should try your way and just start killing everything that breathes," he groaned. Abaddon just continued to watch his slow movements. He looked out of place in the musty smelling room they were using for this week in his tailored black slacks and dark blue button-up. He'd finally taken the waistcoat off a few hours ago, and his black shoes were still shiny. He never did like to get dirty.

"And go against our agreement?" The two bloody angels turned in tandem to take in the archangel standing in their little torture chamber, and Abaddon raised a brow in greeting since her hands were nailed to the wooden table underneath her.

"You're not the one having to work with demons. They keep getting captured at the worst possible moments."

"Patience, brother." Abaddon nearly cooed in delight at _her_ brother's answering glare as he stared down the archangel. She'll never get over just how worked up he gets over the smallest things when he keeps his calm during catastrophes.

"You do not get to call me that, Raphael. Don't forget, I know what side you truly fight for, and it is not mine."

"I am on my own side, just as you are, Elijah."

"Careful with that name. We don't want anyone else to know that Beelzebub is dead, do we?" Ah, yes, Beelzebub. Abaddon misses him, like she would miss an arm. They were a part of each other, and he was one of the few that could understand her thirst for all things destructive. For angels, they really were far from heavenly. Elijah is no model angel, far from it, but he'll never understand what she really is. Not like Beelzebub did.

"We'll keep it our secret for now. How is Abaddon coming along?" She arched her spine at the archangel's gaze and wondered if he could see it through the mess of her intestines.

"We're nearly there. She'll be a demon before much longer," Elijah said. His tone was even and calm, so he's cooled down some. That's good.

"And you will follow her." Elijah's long and bloody fingers tapped the table next to her toes. She felt his gaze run up her body like he was actually touching her.

"Yes, I will follow her, but not until you find him. Keep up your end, Raphael, and so will I."

"Of course." The archangel disappeared, and Abaddon lifted her head up just enough to look down the table at Elijah. Dark eyes met hers, but they were unfocused. He was lost inside his own head again.

"You haven't told him about freeing—"

"No, because he doesn't need to know. Now, let's see if we can twist that grace up, hmm?"

The answering screams were locked up inside the small house as Elijah continued his work. He needed to hurry and turn them both into demons before it was too late.

**ADAM**

Heaven was, well, it was Heaven. His first version of Heaven was a Friday back when he was eight. He'd had a horrible nightmare the night before, something about bunnies with fangs, and his mom had made a decision. She called the school to tell them that he was sick and then she called work to tell them that her son had to stay home. Something about him puking the rainbow. It was the first and only time they ever played hooky together. They ate bad junk food and cuddled under blankets on their old couch while they watched all his favorite cartoons. It was a good memory, but he knew it wasn't really his mom. It was a memory.

After he got brought back to life, lied to, possessed, and then saved in the nick of time, he thought he'd be placed right back into that old memory. Yeah, Zachariah told him that if he did what he was supposed to that he'd get to see his mom again, but Zachariah was dead. And a liar. He was pretty sure Michael owed him a favor since the archangel actually possessed him and nearly got him tossed into Hell (he was still somewhat conscious during the whole vessel thing, kinda like a backseat passenger in his own body), but he wasn't gonna hold his breath. When they got back to Heaven, it was just him in his body. He was also sitting on the front porch stairs of his house. He'd been gearing up to yell at the sky when a dude just popped up in front of him.

The guy hadn't looked familiar, but Adam knew who it was anyway. Michael might have been in a different body, but he could still tell who it was. It didn't matter if the guy had black hair and hazel eyes now, because the archangel had actually been inside of him for a little while. It sounds weird when you say it out loud, but it's a very intimate thing. The point? Adam would know Michael anywhere in any kind of body. It's just one of those things. He'd been prepared to kick up a little dust and try to make some demands, but Michael took over before he could get started. Promised Adam that he'd take him to his mother and then did just that. They wound up at a shack, but Michael wouldn't go in. Said it wouldn't be right and disappeared.

Against his better judgment, Adam went inside. He was greeted by more people than he was counting on, because the place didn't look that big on the outside, but he didn't care if there were a thousand people packed into the small building as long as his mom was one of them. And she was. It took him ten minutes before he'd let her pull out of their hug and if he teared up a little, nobody there mentioned it. Once he finally did pull away, she told him what happened. She'd been in her own Heaven, watching him toddle around on chubby legs, when Zachariah came for her. He'd locked her up somewhere, more than likely to use as a bargaining chip, and that's where she was found by some dude named Ash with a mullet. Adam wasn't really sure what to make of Ash at first, but the guy's okay in his book. He did help get his mother to a safe place, which they call the Roadhouse.

Some people are always at the roadhouse. Like Ash, who knows almost everything about Heaven and even has the place warded against angels. Adam didn't even know that was possible, because it's _Heaven_. Then there's Ellen and Jo, a mother-daughter hunting duo, until they got killed. Pamela is normally around too, and she's like his mom's bff now. A little dude by the name of Andy Gallagher hangs around pretty often, and Adam has a feeling that it's because of his huge crush on Jo. Or maybe Ash. A lot of hunters and other people who know about monsters drop in, but Adam still hasn't seen his dad. (He's not holding his breath on that one either.)

Heaven is a roadhouse and people who died while trying to make a difference in the world. Adam died to become a monster's snack, but maybe his second death is a little more meaningful. It wasn't less painful, that's for sure. Still, he's got his mom and some friends. Ash knows how to get in the backdoor of almost every Heaven there is. Just last week (or was it last month? Yesterday? Time is weird here) they snuck into Elvis's Heaven and watched the King perform a packed out show. Heaven is, well, it's Heaven.

**ELIJAH**

"Ah, there's my favorite demon." Abaddon smiled at the praise and twirled around in her bloody dress. It took weeks, but he finally managed it. The angel Abaddon is no more, but a demon suits her much better.

"I like the way it feels, but you're looking a little too bright." Elijah smoothed his hands across his knees and felt tension building in his spine. He doesn't want to be a demon, but he'll do what he has to.

"We'll fix that soon enough. First I need to find—" He was cut off as the room they were in suddenly became a bit more populated, and he didn't bother to raise from his chair. Abaddon moved so that she was standing beside him so that they could both have a clear look at their new guests. One of their demons was kneeling on the floor, most of his clothes and skin tore off, and only a single eye looked out at them. Two men were standing behind him, and Elijah recognized them immediately.

"I'm not sure which of you are committing the greater sin. An angel working with a demon to track down angels? Or a demon working with an angel to torture demons?" Eyes swept over him in shock, dark green and ice blue, and Elijah felt a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn't want anyone to know he was alive, not yet, but he's never liked being so secretive.

"Elijah?"

"Asmodeus, my brother. Have you left your hole at last?" He knows that Asmodeus has been helping to torture his minions, as Abaddon calls them, but he can't resist a little teasing.

"Where's Beelzebub?" Elijah looked over at Abaddon, but she was looking at Asmodeus like she wanted to eat him alive. Or possibly even tear him apart. So much history between those two.

"Beelzebub has been gone for a very long time. Apparently big brother does make mistakes," Elijah smiled.

"How many times do you have to be killed before it sticks?" He looked away from Asmodeus's fearful eyes to the only other angel in the room.

"Once would be enough. I've missed you too, Balthazar." The other angel bristled under his stare but didn't back down. He's gotten cockier over the years.

"We should go, Balthazar." Ever the coward. Elijah once looked up to the older angel, Lucifer's general. Oh, how the mighty fall.

"Go? But you just got here! And we have so much to catch up on." Abaddon's voice was a purr, and the bloody demon in their room finally fell over unconscious. Elijah moved at the same time as his sister, and Asmodeus and Balthazar never saw them coming.

**ADAM**

"What about Beethoven? I bet his Heaven looks pretty cool. You know, we can check out some Heavens with less partying and more historical worth. Ash, are you even listening? Ash!" His mullet-haired friend jerked up at the louder tone of voice, and Adam met his hazy stare right on. Yeah, Ash has definitely been staring at a computer screen for way too long. There's no sleeping in Heaven, so Ash can literally stare at the screen for days. It's both terrifying and hilarious.

"Sorry, I was just…none of it's making any sense!" Ash slammed his hands on either side of the heavy duty laptop and slipped off his stool. Adam glanced at the screen, almost got a headache from looking at all the blinking lights, and then looked over at Ash. He was chugging down beer like oxygen, and Adam waited until he was through before saying anything.

"Something wrong?"

"It's the angels. I can't make sense of them," Ash grumbled.

"That's because they don't make any sense. They're _angels_." He's still not a fan of the feathered assholes.

"No, man, this is different. Look, they normally keep to themselves, right? All spread out and doing whatever they do, but they've been ganging up lately. See? Like here?" Ash waved a finger in a circle around a grouping of something that made zero sense to Adam, but that's because Ash is well versed in everything angelic. Like Enochian.

"Okay, I'll play along. Angels are hanging out more. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? Michael and Castiel are still MIA, and there's angels branching off into factions!" Ash grabbed another beer, and Adam spun around on his own stool.

"Well, what are they saying?" Sometime back, Ash developed a way to listen to other parts of Heaven. The connection was usually full of static and cut out at the worst times, but it was useful.

"I'm blocked."

"_You_ are blocked?" Horrible connection or not, Ash could always make contact.

"Exactly! That means they're putting up precautions so that they won't be heard! They don't know about me, so who are they trying to keep from listening in?" Adam rolled that around and then shrugged.

"Any theories?"

"Angel conspiracies?" Adam nodded thoughtfully before laughter came spilling out, and he ducked the beer can that Ash chugged at his head. Come on, angel conspiracies? Like that would ever happen.

* * *

**Finis: **New POVs everywhere! Since this one is short and has a distinct lack of Sam/Emma, I'll probably update again tomorrow. The next chapter helps explain this one too, so there's also that. Now, about the new bad guy. When I first started writing this story, like a year ago, I didn't have much of a working plan and just picked some big baddies. Once I picked the story up again, I didn't really want to do Beelzebub but did want to keep Abaddon. So, I did some switching. Also, I'm a huge Adam fan, so I've always wanted to bring him in somehow. I won't do these POVs very often, but they'll pop up from time to time.


	15. Chapter 15

**TIB: **Here's the next one, as promised! It's a bit longer than the last one and has some fluff in it, so enjoy!

**Lexi: **I like mixing it up sometimes, and it's fun to write from other perspectives. Thank you for the review!

**Handara: **Aww, me and my story love you too! Adam is one of my favorite characters, and I've always hated that he was left in the Cage. Poor kid didn't deserve that, so I'm making up for it! I wanted to write more Ellen and Jo, but it makes me sad too. They're all happy and that's what matters. I'm glad you liked the different POVs, but we're back to Sam and Emma now. Thank you so much for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen  
****Dean's Sausage Brings All The Boys To The Yard**

* * *

**SAM**

Waking up after such a deep sleep was always amazing. When he first got to Stanford, it took him weeks before he could sleep through an entire night. He was so used to running on a few hours of sleep that he suspected his body didn't know how to sleep for eight hours at a time anymore. Once he got used to it, he loved being able to slip into a deep sleep. He took naps in the middle of the afternoon just because he _could_. Then he spent years on the road with Dean and easily slipped back into his old sleeping patterns, until they got their own house. Sam can easily revert back to four hours a night (or less) when he's on a hunt, but he loves being able to just relax. Like right now.

"Does your brain ever turn off? Like, ever?" That's not Emma's voice, and it's coming from right up against him.

"Does your mouth ever turn off? Like, ever?" Gabriel's puffed out laugh hit his throat, and Sam's fingers flexed in Gabriel's hair. Emma must have snuck off again, so now he's full on cuddling an archangel. Again. He's got a hand buried in soft hair and the other one gripping denim, and Gabriel's hand is warm against his bare side.

"Only when it's otherwise occupied, Sambo." Sam did not blush, but he did roll his eyes at the archangel's suggestive tone. He hasn't even opened his eyes today and he's already rolling them. Only Gabriel can annoy him this much before he's even fully awake.

"I'm going to stop attending our sleepovers," Sam huffed. Gabriel's fingers spread across his ribcage, and he felt his skin prickle against the light touch.

"Then who will keep me warm at night?" He felt eyelashes fluttering against the bottom of his chin and tried not to think about just how close Gabriel was. He really needs to get up, but he's so _warm_.

"Emma." The _duh_ was heavily implied.

"She's snuggled up to Michael right now. I can't cuddle my big brother. It'd be too weird."

"But cuddling with me is normal?" Oh no. He did _not_ just say that. Sam knows better by now than to give Gabriel any kind of ammunition. The archangel does just fine on his own, and Sam just handed him a loaded gun. Hazel eyes slowly peeked open, and the first thing Sam saw was the knuckle of his middle finger sticking out of a thick lock of hair. The rest of his fingers were completely covered by the light brown strands. Then he looked down and instantly regretted it. Gabriel's eyes were really golden today, a little more than usual.

"You're prettier than he is." It was said with another outlandish eyelash flutter that made him want to laugh and knotted his stomach up all at once, and he was still trying to remember what words were when his bedroom door opened. His limbs moved on instinct to pull Gabriel closer (like the archangel needed to be saved by a human?) and his cuddling partner breathed out another laugh against his collarbone.

"Dean has made breakfast and said for you to stop being so lazy." Cas's face was serious, but his blue eyes were laughing. Sam could just tell.

"Be right down, little bro. Sam's gotta get the cuddles out of his system," Gabriel said with a pat to his hip.

"Me?! You're the one who—!" Cas was already gone, and Sam decided not to even try. Gabriel was laughing too hard to hear him anyway.

**EMMA**

"Am I still dreaming?" The words came out garbled since she was drooling onto a black tee shirt, and isn't that embarrassing? Even if this is a dream, drooling on an archangel will always be mortifying.

"No, you're awake. Why would you still be dreaming?" Emma peeled her face away from the archangel's very firm chest and sheepishly looked down at the small wet spot. Michael's eyes followed hers, and Emma watched as her drool just disappeared. Well, that's handy.

"Okay, I am really sorry about that. I promise, sleeping isn't always that, uh, messy?" She was sitting up now, legs crossed under her and blanket wrapped around her hips. (Gabriel, and she knows it was Gabriel because of the cartoon moons, just had to give her the shortest shorts in existence.) Michael was still laying down, one arm curled under his head and the other stretched behind her back, and smiling up at her. Ugh, no one should look that good after just waking up. Even Gabriel gets bedhead.

"I don't mind."

"So you won't smite me for drooling on you?" Emma felt her lips quirking up into a smile and couldn't get over how surreal this was. Michael is _the_ archangel. Yeah, she's used to goofing around with Gabriel, because he's been masquerading as the God of Mischief for the past two thousand years. Going by Sam's story time, Emma expected Michael to be a bit more…stoic?

"Not this time." And now he's joking! Standby, people, there's a swoon waiting in the wings! A quiet knock at the door made Emma suck in a breath, and she looked to the side just in time to see Cas poke his fluffy head in.

"Dean has made breakfast and would like you both to join us." Cas's eyes are looking very blue today. Maybe it's the light blue button-up she doesn't remember buying. Has Cas been out shopping on his own? Without her?

"We'll be right down, Cas. Just let me get dressed." The angel nodded and closed the door, and Emma smiled at Michael one last time before scurrying out of her cocoon. She's pretty sure that the shorts are short enough to flash a little bit of ass cheek, and the tank top she's wearing shows a wide strip of skin across her stomach. Damn that Gabriel! Emma peeked into her closet, snagged some clothes, and found her usual weapons in a small knapsack. She grabbed that too and then dashed into her bathroom.

She took the quickest shower possible (gotta scrub out all the creases) and balled her wet hair up on top of her head. She'll deal with it later. Maybe. If she doesn't get distracted by Nickelodeon. She yanked up an old pair of whitewashed jeans and slipped into an old ACDC shirt, because she's all about the comfort today. The two necklaces around her neck got a little tangled when she slipped her rosary back on, and she gently unwound it before slipping it back off. Alright, rosary bracelet it is. She wrapped the length of the necklace around her wrist and tucked the cross into the beads. That's better. For weapons, she just strapped on her ankle and waist holsters. Today, she's gonna treat her boobs and not use them to conceal knives and a spare gun clip. She was humming as she stepped back into her bedroom; her not empty bedroom. Michael was still laying on top of the blanket, but the bed had been made. So, he made the bed and then laid back down. Or did he use some angel mojo and tidy up without ever moving?

"Do you always sing in the shower?" Wow, how many times can she embarrass herself before noon? She better hold onto the railing when she walks down the stairs.

"It helps me wake up," she shrugged. Lots of people sing in the shower. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, even though she was belting out Cyndi Lauper. "Come on, angel boy, there's hot food waiting downstairs. Wait, do you eat?"

"I don't have to."

"Well, yeah, but do you?" Gabriel eats all the time. Emma's not really sure how he doesn't weigh as much as the house, angel mojo be damned. If she ate that much chocolate and sugar, she'd be dead.

"Not in a very long time." His eyes were a little unfocused, as if he was thinking about that far away time, and Emma walked around the bed to the door. For her, a very long time was like three years ago. For him, it could be a millennia. Bejeesus, these dudes are old. You'd think they'd have the decency to at least look old.

"I'm sure food's changed since back in the day, so why don't you come try some? Knowing Dean, there's bound to be coffee and bacon. I'm sure Gabriel will make something covered in chocolate, if you have a sweet tooth." She held her hand out again, and Michael's hand easily slid against hers. This time his fingers laced through hers, and Emma gave him a small tug to get him moving. Sam and Dean are big boys that require a lot of food, and she wants to make sure she gets her fair share of bacon before it disappears.

Even though she was holding onto an archangel's hand, she still gripped the bannister going down the stairs. No point in tempting fate, right?

**SAM**

"What are you doing to my bacon?! That's perfectly good bacon!" Sam looked up from where he was spreading jam on his biscuit (apple, not grape). Dean was still placing stacks of food in the center of the table, but Gabriel had already snagged himself a plate and filled it with bacon. Sam's own plate had a bit more variety, because Dean's pancakes were extra fluffy and irresistible.

"Now it's perfectly good bacon!" Gabriel shot back and poured another gob of chocolate onto his breakfast. Dean growled and turned back to the stove so he could shovel scrambled eggs into a big bowl.

"You should try the sausage," Cas offered. The angel had three sausage biscuits on his plate with a few more links on the side, and he looked like he was in Heaven. Dean gripped Cas's shoulder as he leaned around him to set the eggs down, and Sam caught the gleeful look on Gabriel's face. Normally gleeful is a good thing, but on Gabriel it's more like a harbinger of disaster. Sam's mouth was stuffed with a biscuit though, so he couldn't stop him.

"That's okay, little bro, I'll leave Dean's sausage to you."

"Watch it!" Sam stomped on Gabriel's foot, but he's barefoot and Gabriel's an archangel. It probably just tickled or something. It also would've been better if Gabriel was sitting next to him instead of across from him, better leverage.

"Why are we talking about Dean's sausage?"

"We're not!" Sam looked over his shoulder as Emma walked into the kitchen, with Michael behind her. They were holding hands, but Sam didn't think much of it. Emma's a tactile person, touchy feely. The little hunter let his hand go, and the mighty archangel sat down at the table and watched her as she grabbed plates and glasses for them. Five minutes later, they were all sitting down at the table and eating almost like a normal family. Sam says almost, because they'll never be normal. Dean is looking at Cas more than at his own bacon, Gabriel is barefoot now and keeps trying to play footsie with him, and Emma is feeding Michael small bites of everything at the table. This isn't even normal for them.

"So, Castiel—"

"Gabriel—"

"Who made the first move?"

"I will deep fry your ass!"

"I believe Dean did." Sam just watched it all unfold, and he could see Emma and Michael staring at their other three companions. Michael looked amused, and Emma looked like she was watching a soap opera.

"How'd he do it?"

"Don't answer that." Blue eyes looked between his brother and his hunter, and Cas looked down at his plate as he took another bite of sausage.

"You upset him. Both of you should just leave him alone." Dean looked at Cas like the angel was gonna fly off, and Cas gave Sam a small smile. Gabriel just ran his toes up Sam's calf like it was part of their daily routine.

"This is so much better than TV," Emma whispered.

"Eat your pancakes, Tinkerbelle." Emma pouted and took a bite of pancakes that was more syrup than anything, and Sam kicked away the foot that was getting close to his knee. How did Gabriel even manage that? Sam didn't think his short legs would reach that far. The room was mostly silent as everyone went back to eating, and Sam relaxed as the tension slowly eased from the room.

"Your eggs are very good, Dean. Do you season them?" Everyone looked up and turned as one, but Michael didn't seem to mind. He just kept looking down the table at Dean, who looked like a deer in the headlights. Yeah, Sam was feeling a little lost himself. An archangel was asking about Dean's culinary skills?

"Yeah, it's a little something I made myself." Dean shrugged like it was no big deal, but Sam knows that his brother is addicted to the Food Network.

"You should have been a chef."

"Damn right he should've. Breakfast is nothing. Wait until you try some of his dinner masterpieces," Emma praised.

"If it's anything like his breakfast, then I'll have to try some," Michael said with a small smile. Dean wasn't blushing, but he was headed that way. It made Sam smile, so he took in a huge bite of scrambled eggs to hide it.

"Dean's sausage brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, it's better than Sam's," Emma started singing. Sam choked on his eggs as all the color drained from Dean's face.

"Damn right it's better than Mike's. He can teach you, but Cas will smite!" Gabriel chimed in. Sam was pouring water down his throat to try and dislodge the eggs, and color was rapidly returning to Dean's face.

"La-la la-la-la, warm it up! La-la la-la-la, Cas is waiting!" Emma and Gabriel sang together. The eggs finally went down as Dean snatched up a knife and pointed it at their singing companions; it was a butter knife, but the look in Dean's eyes made it look like a machete. Cas and Michael just looked on in confusion and amusement.

"Shut up!"

"That was—"

"Deep fried, Gabriel. Like a funnel cake. As for you, I'll take away the remote. No more SpongeBob," Dean threatened. The two singers froze mid high-five, Gabriel and Emma both pouted while looking down at their plates.

"Fun sucker," Gabriel grumbled at the same time Emma muttered, "Tartar sauce." Sam blinked the water from his eyes and chugged some orange juice to keep from laughing at the scandalized look on his brother's face. Breakfast was a little quieter after that.

"So, which one of you is doing the dishes?" Sam looked up from his clean plate and exchanged a look with Emma before they both turned to look at Dean. "Don't look at me like that. I cooked."

"Dishes." Snap. "Done."

"That's cheating." Gabriel smirked at Dean, because that is definitely not a smile, and leaned back in his chair.

"The dishes are done, aren't they?" The table was cleared, and it looked like all the dishes were back in the cabinet. Sam could tell because Dean forgot to close the cabinets again.

"What's on today's agenda?" Emma asked quickly. Dean pulled out of his staring contest with Heaven's most annoying angel and looked over at Emma.

"We could check in with Bobby, see if anything new has come up. Maybe find a few jobs close by," Dean sighed. In other words, the usual.

"We should find Balthazar and Mo," Michael said quietly. They were getting up from the table when there was a crash from the living room, and all six of them scrambled to see what was going on. Sam got there first, thanks to his long legs, and he felt Gabriel brush past him. The coffee table broke when Balthazar landed on it, or at least, the bloody lump surrounded by broken wood looked like Balthazar.

"Was aiming for the couch," the angel moaned. Gabriel bent down to scoop up the taller angel and move him over to the couch, and Gabriel stayed kneeling after the angel was stretched out. There was a familiar snap and all the blood disappeared, but Balthazar was still covered in deep cuts and bruises. Sam could see them through the rips in his v-neck and even his slacks.

"Why can't I heal you?" Gabriel asked quickly.

"Oh, sure, now you want to help," Balthazar groaned. The angel still reached up to grab Gabriel's hand when it touched his shoulder, so he must not hate Gabriel too much.

"What happened, Balthazar?" It was phrased as a question, but Michael was definitely making a command. Dean and Emma moved around them to go sit in the recliners, and Cas took his now usual place on the arm of Dean's chair. Michael was standing next to the ruined coffee table, and Sam eased himself down onto the arm of the couch next to Balthazar's feet.

"I found a demon, just before sunrise, and asked for Mo's help interrogating the little bastard. He finally told us about an old hideout. I know you said to report directly to you, but it was supposed to be empty." Balthazar shifted and grunted at the movement before lifting hazy blue eyes back to Michael.

"What happened next?" Sam watched the way that Balthazar's fingers flexed against Gabriel's hand before he spoke again.

"It wasn't empty. They came at us, and we didn't get away in time. We were finally able to split up. Mo went one way, and I went the other. I had to wait until he wasn't following me before coming here."

"Beelzebub and Abaddon?"

"Abaddon went for Mo. Still sore about his little runaway act, I imagine. Beelzebub wasn't with her. He's dead and has been for a very long time. You killed the wrong brother." Balthazar's icy blue eyes were even frostier than usual, and Michael crossed his arms.

"I placed Abaddon _and_ Beelzebub in their tomb. I would know if Beelzebub was dead." Beelzebub was Michael's general before he followed after Lucifer, so Michael really must have been able to tell him apart from the other angels.

"Beelzebub is dead, Michael. You trapped Elijah." The angels in the room seemed to freeze, but Sam was just confused. Even Dean and Emma looked lost, because who is Elijah?

"Wasn't he human?" Sam asked. He was searching his memory on biblical lore, but he could only think of one Elijah. A human. Four pairs of angelic eyes landed on him, and he tried not to squirm under the combined weight.

"Wrong Elijah. This Elijah is definitely an angel," Gabriel answered.

"Barely," Michael bit out. The archangel looked ready to smite something, so this is really bad. Michael is the calm one.

"Well, who the hell is this dude? And how do we know he's telling the truth about Beelz?" Dean asked. The angels were quiet and kept exchanging glances, until Gabriel finally clapped his hands and leaned back against the couch.

"Once upon a time, in a land of dicks and douchebags—"

"_Gabriel_."

"Alright, short and sweet then. Elijah is an angel and a warrior. You know, for being such a dickbag, he's always been pretty honorable," Gabriel said and looked over at his older brother.

"There's nothing honorable about that blasphemer." Yeah, Michael does not look happy.

"He does keep his word though. I'm surprised he's managed to stay hidden this long. He may be brutal, but he really hates lying," Balthazar murmured.

"How brutal are we talking here?" Emma asked.

"He ripped off one of my wings." Cas was lightly rubbing his right shoulder, and Dean was staring at the space behind Cas's shoulder blades. He ripped off one of Cas's wings?

"You handled it like a pro, little brother. Still smote a whole squadron with just one wing hangin' on. I was so proud," Gabriel grinned. The praise made Cas smile, just a little, but Sam was still feeling a little sick. Angel wings were like limbs, right? So, Cas kept fighting with the equivalent of an arm missing?

"Stay on track," Dean snapped. Gabriel glared but picked the story back up.

"Warrior, right. A really smart warrior though. He was always questioning orders, and I'm pretty sure he followed Lucifer just for the freedom because those two never got along. He was a part of Raphael's garrison; used to drive Raphael crazy because he never did as he was told. Then he jumped down after Lucifer and started committing horrible sins."

"Worse than the usual torture?" Emma drawled. Yeah, they heard something similar with Mo's tale. Follow Lucifer, torture and kill, become a bad guy. This guy might still be an angel, but that doesn't make him one of the good guys.

"Oh, much worse. Struck up a deal with Eve herself. You muttonheads know about Eve?" At their headshakes, Gabriel sighed and continued, "She let Evil into the Garden, into the world. That's mostly Lucifer's fault, but Eve was still punished. Over and over. Made some of my work look like a Sunday picnic. It goes without saying that she was pissed. Eve wasn't bad, per se—"

"Brother."

"Well, she wasn't! You and Dad and all the others hated her for something that Lucifer did. She was human and trusting, and Dad's punishment was a bit too much. Drove her stark raving mad. Completely looney tunes. Her children were taken from her, so she made her own out of the darkness that _you_ put her in." Gabriel sounded really upset, and Michael wouldn't meet his little brother's eyes.

"Made her own?" Dean pushed.

"Everything that goes bump in the night came from her. Ghouls, vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters…she's the mother of them all. Lucifer created an army of demons, and Eve created an army of monsters. No wonder we were losing. All we had were soldiers. Anyway, since the demons and evil humans had Hell, Dad made Purgatory for the supernatural. That's where Eve was locked away once the big fight was over, and that's where the monsters go when they die."

"And this Elijah dude made a deal with Eve?" Emma asked.

"Mhmm. Lucifer needed allies, but Eve hated Lucifer. For obvious reasons. Her and Elijah got along though, and she promised to help him if he would inhabit one of her children. If he would combine his power with one of her creations and violate one of our greatest rules."

"Dude, you guys have way too many rules. You gotta be more specific," Dean pointed out. And it's a very good point.

"Elijah's true vessel is a vampire, and he's the only angel that's ever successfully inhabited a vessel that wasn't human. As for his greatest sin…"

"He knocked up a human. Vampires can't procreate, but angels can. We're forbidden from having little hybrid babies," Gabriel grinned as he finished up for Michael. It wasn't one of his usual grins. It was _dark_ and _hateful_.

"A Nephilim? Half human and half angel?" Golden eyes looked up at Sam, and Sam met the stare right on. Gabriel nodded before turning to look at the rest of the room.

"Elijah was nearly unstoppable, but Michael supposedly killed him." Gabriel was definitely throwing out a pointed look, and Michael actually started to pace.

"I did kill him. It had to be him," was all Michael said. Cas was being very quiet and just watching the oldest archangel, and it looked like Balthazar was sleeping.

"I dunno, bro, you were really out of it at the end. Lucifer kicked your ass pretty good, and Beelzebub didn't hold back after you tossed his precious Luci in the Cage. You cornered all three of them, right? Killed Elijah and sealed Beelzebub with Abaddon?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Unless Elijah tricked you. Come on, I wasn't Lucifer's only student. Elijah was never at my level, but he was still pretty good and you were kinda…uh."

"I was what?" The two stared at each other down, which would have been laughable in any other situation. Gabriel was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Michael was standing across from him with his arms crossed over his chest and bending down the tiniest bit.

"Weak, okay? You were weak."

"I might not have been if all my brother's hadn't abandoned me. Raphael refused to fight, my own general turned against me, and you ran away. Did you even complete your last mission? Because you know that Elijah will be looking for him."

"Of course I did! It was the last thing I did before going off the grid."

"Share with the class, sweetums. What'd you do?" Gabriel quit glaring at his brother to look over at Emma, who was glaring at the both of them. Sam can understand why. The two brothers can argue about how everything went down sometime later.

"The Nephilim, Elijah's son, couldn't be killed. We're not sure why. Maybe it's because Elijah was in a stronger vessel, or because the kid's mother was a witch, or because Eve had a hand in the whole thing. No one's really sure. All I know is that he wouldn't stay down. So I scrubbed his memories and sent him to a new dimension. He just keeps living the same life over and over, with no memory of this dimension or who he really is. If Elijah really is alive, he'll be looking for his son."

"Kid have a name?" Dean asked.

"Simon. His name is Simon. Should I move him?" Gabriel was asking Michael, and the oldest began pacing again.

"No, Elijah might feel the disruption. Just keep an eye on him."

"You got it, boss."

"There's gotta be a way to kill these sons of bitches. We can't just keep waiting for them to make a move." Dean's got a point. All of this waiting isn't doing anyone any good. There's nothing worse than waiting for the other side to make a move, to see what they'll do.

"Abaddon!" Balthazar tried to sit up, and Sam watched the way that fresh blood spread over his cleaned shirt. Gabriel was quick to put a hand on the angel's chest and push him back down, and the new blood disappeared once Balthazar was still again.

"What about Abaddon?"

"Not an angel anymore. She's a demon, but there was something different about her. She wasn't like Mo or Lilith; she looked different, and stronger." With that out, Balthazar slipped back into sleep. Or a meditative state.

"We've wasted enough time. We need to look for them so that when you find a way to kill them, we'll know where to go," Michael said with a look at Dean.

"You want us back on research duty?" Sam can tell that Dean is itching to get up and do _something_, but what can they do? There's no point in going after anyone until they know how to take them out.

"Gabriel, do you still have your accounts?"

"'Course I do. I wasn't gonna leave 'em upstairs with you."

"Would you trust them with the Winchesters?"

"Do I trust a group of idiots with my personal accounts of the War in Heaven and Lucifer's Fall? Yeah, I guess so." Gabriel snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. "Couple of crates in the library. Treat 'em gently, kids. It's the edited versions, but I worked hard to get 'em just right. So, we searching?"

"Yes. Can Balthazar rest here?"

"Put him in a guest room," Dean said and waved a hand at Michael. Balthazar was gone from the couch in the blink of an eye, and the three remaining angels were on their feet. They were already looking tired, and they haven't even left yet.

"We'll return with news as soon as possible," Cas said quickly. Then they were all gone. Poof. Gone with a rustle of feathers.

"Crates?" Emma.

"Crates." Sam.

"Whiskey." And Dean.

**EMMA**

"My eyeballs are dry," Emma groaned and dropped her head onto the table.

"Suck it up, sister. At least you _have_ eyeballs, because this dude wasn't so lucky," Dean said and tapped the page he was reading. Followed quickly by a shot. Emma's not really sure how he still has a functioning liver. So far, her only theory is that Cas pops in every night to scrub it clean. It's the only way he's still kicking. Emma misses Cas. And Gabriel. And Michael. Even Balthazar skipped out two days ago after he was all healed up, so now it's just her and the Winchester Bros.

"Can you two keep it down? I'm trying to think," Sam grumbled from the back wall. When Emma first saw the library, she thought it was glorious. One really big table, little lamps everywhere, and so many shelves. There's no windows in the library, but the back wall is completely bare except for a giant board that takes up the entire space. Right now, Sam's got most of it covered with a timeline for their two biggest foes. There's a smaller one at the bottom for Simon, just in case he does somehow get free.

Emma's gotta hand it to Gabriel, he's very thorough. The accounts are very clinical and blunt, and they don't hold anything back. Gabriel has detailed his every battle and every battle he witnessed, among other things. He describes the earliest demons, the ones made from angels, and how they differed from the ones made from humans. Detailed the earliest monsters and the earliest heroes. Emma's never read anything so bloody and full of death. (It's even worse than _Game of Thrones_.) Gabriel is God's Messenger, and what a messenger he is. There's even pictures.

"Any connections, Sammykins?" Emma asked as she rubbed at her eyes. They feel like they're filled with sand, but that's probably because they've been at this for three days already. She took a nap, once, but none of them have really left the library except for when they remember to eat or go to the bathroom.

"We know that an angel can be killed using an angel blade, but it says here that Elijah was stabbed through his, uh, innards? Yeah, and it didn't kill him. I think that whatever vessel Eve made for him makes him stronger than just any other angel, and I'm pretty sure that's why no other angel has been able to enter a supernatural vessel. I think Eve had a direct hand in making Elijah's vessel, like tailor made. Where was it?"

"Don't hurt yourself, Sammy," Dean drawled as Sam ran his hands over the papers pinned to the board. Sam's been photocopying every piece of paper that references Elijah, Abaddon, Simon, Eve, and pretty much every weapon that's been mentioned. He's even got them color coded by pushpins. Elijah is blue. (Abaddon gets bright red because of all the destruction, Simon got the pretty green ones, Eve is pink, and all the weapons are yellow. It's a good system.)

"Alright, get this…here's Gabriel's account of seeing Elijah in his new vessel for the first time: _I arrived too late to save either of my brothers. There stood a man, unknown to me, holding the hearts of my brothers as the grace was leeched from their bodies. Of all the Host, only one angel has the ability to tear out the grace of an angel. Elijah. Gifted with the power of holding grace, to heal it. Now he uses his gift to rip grace from our brothers and sisters. He stands before me, it must be him, but I am unable to _see_ him. His vessel is unlike any other I have ever encountered, for it hides him from his own kind._"

"So, super-secret vessel. I bet that came in handy a time or two. So, how do we kill an angel in an unstoppable vessel?" Her head is pounding, and she can't remember the last time she could feel her left foot. There's a funky smell in the air too, and she's got a feeling that it's her.

"It's a vampire vessel, right? Anyone ever tried beheading the SOB?" Dean knocked back another shot like it was water, and Emma watched on in amazement. Is it an iron liver? Or did Cas change his biology when he constructed Dean's body so that he needs alcohol to live instead of it swiftly killing him?

"If they have, I haven't found it yet. You really think beheading will work on an angel? They're not exactly human, are they?" Sam had a very good point. How do you behead an angelic being? Don't they have multiple heads?

"How do we even know he's still an angel? The other one turned into a demon, so maybe he will too." Sam walked away from the back wall and braced his palms against the table, and Emma looked up from the swimming words in front of her to look at the tall hunter. The tall hunter with circles under his eyes and scruffy cheeks. His hair has even lost its shine and looks a little lank.

"That's what's really bugging me. Why turn into a demon now? What are they planning?" Sam ran his hands through his hair and stalked back to the wall, and Emma blinked at his broad back.

"What about Abaddon? Do we know how to kill a super juiced demon?"

"The knife might work on her," Dean mumbled. He flipped a page in his book, and Emma watched the way he bent down to better read what was on the page. His nose was almost brushing the old paper (if it even was paper, Emma's not so sure). His eyes crossed for a bit and then he was moving out of the chair so fast that it almost tipped over.

"Where's the fire?" Emma called out to his retreating back.

"I need a drink!" The bottle on the table still had a few shots left in it, so Emma slid to the other side of the table and tried to find the passage that Dean had been reading. It was in English, which had to be something Gabriel did to make this easier for them, but the font was so small. Emma squinted and read a few lines before quickly moving back to her seat. It was a passage about a young brother with one wing smiting a group of overzealous demons. Must be Cas, so Dean's disappearing act makes sense.

"We are so fucked," Emma mumbled as she fell back into her seat. They still had a few crates left to go through, and they were already running on fumes.

"Yup."

**SAM**

"Are you idjits still alive?"

"No."

"Yes."

"What is it, Bobby?" Emma and Dean were sitting side by side, and Emma had her head on the library table next to where Dean's feet were kicked up. Sam was standing at the back wall, going over the information again to see if there was anything they'd missed. It's been a week and some days, and they've just now managed to finish off the crates. Dean smells like a liquor store and Emma keeps trying to catch dots in the air, so they're all way past their breaking points. Sam can't even remember the last time he showered.

"When was the last time any of you slept?"

"Like, in a bed?" Dean asked.

"We have beds?" Emma mumbled. Sam took a two hour nap an hour ago, so that's why he's a bit more aware than the other two.

"Guess that means you haven't turned on a TV the past few days either," Bobby huffed. Sam turned around fully at that, and Emma peeled her cheek from the table so she could rest on her chin instead. Dean's only indication that he was paying attention was that he wasn't drinking anything.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"Nothing too noticeable, but I've been flooded with calls. The hunters out there can't keep up, and they could use some help. You three aren't fit to take on an arthritic salt 'n burn right now."

"I resemble that remark," Emma slurred. Wait, shouldn't Dean be the one slurring? Did Emma start drinking when he was catching some shut-eye?

"Get cleaned up and get some rest. When you're function' and sober, come find me." Bobby marched out, and the three hunters all looked around at one another.

"We've gone over everything," Dean sighed. It was the same thing he said yesterday.

"Nothing else we can really do," Emma added.

"Let's get some sleep. We'll go over to Bobby's tomorrow and figure out the whole hunting thing. Come on, you two," Sam said and knocked a hand against each of their shoulders.

"Love it when he takes control," Dean started.

"Gets me all tingly," Emma finished. Sam stalked from the room as they laughed and fell over each other, but he did pause on the second floor to make sure they didn't fall down the stairs. They all separated to go to their own rooms, and Sam didn't even look at his bed before going to his bathroom. If he looked at the bed, he'd never make it to the shower and he _reeks_. He didn't mean to take so long in the shower, but the hot water felt way too good. He might have even fallen asleep under the spray for a few minutes. Thankfully, his sleep pants from over a week ago were still in the bathroom so he slipped those on and called it a night.

"Took ya long enough." Dean's words were even more slurred than usual because of the way his face was pressed against a pillow, and Emma's wet head peeked up over his brother's shoulders.

"Why are you two in my bed?" Dean was on the side closest to the bathroom with Emma in the middle of the bed, so at least his usual side was empty.

"Gettin' the cuddles on." Emma's head ducked back down, and Sam decided there was no point in fighting them. He's shared a bed with Emma several times since she came back topside, and him and Dean practically grew up in the same bed. If he can cuddle an archangel, he can share a bed with these two.

Sam slipped under his blankets, and Emma immediately reached up for his hair. He caught Dean's amused stare over the little hunter's head and gave him a look that warned him not to say anything, and his big brother just smiled before throwing a leg over Emma's and nuzzling down into his pillow. Sam knew that they'd all be tangled together like a parody of a puzzle by sunrise, but he didn't care. They just spent a week and a half reading up on all the ways that demons and angels could die, reading about ways that Abaddon and Elijah could kill them, and Sam was going to enjoy the peace while he could.

"G'night, Winchesters."

* * *

**Finis: **So much fluff for this chapter, with a bit of drama at the end. Can't have all sunshine and rainbows, or the plot will never move along. I seriously had way too much fun writing this one. As far as references go, there's a few. Emma mentioned singing Cyndi Lauper, and I picture her singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." You can picture a different song if you like. The song that Emma sings at breakfast is her own version of "Milkshake" by Kelis.

I want to mention the little part about Elijah ripping off one of Cas's wings. We all know that Cas is a badass, but there's never any background on what he's been up to since his creation. So, in my story, he was a soldier in the big war against Lucifer and a total badass. So, yeah.

About the vampire vessel, I've always thought it was a little weird that demons and angels possess just humans. Not to hate on humans or anything, but they're a little low on the food chain. Why not inhabit a vampire? Or a werewolf? Or anything with superhuman strength? So I came up with a theory that they're not compatible, because Eve really doesn't like angels (or demons) but she does like Elijah. (More on that later.) Thus, a tailor made vessel.


	16. Chapter 16

**TIB: **No warnings for this chapter, because it's super fluffy. Maybe too fluffy at times. You be the judge.

**Handara: **Nickelodeon is the best! A friend of mine came over and we watched the Spongebob movie, so I slipped it in there. I hate stories and movies where the girls wake up perfectly, because it's not realistic to me. Real people drool at the worst times and have bedhead. The plot is coming along! Slowly though, because I want to build up the relationships a bit before it all goes to hell. That is a good theory, it makes sense. I just felt like playing with it a bit. I'm so glad you've enjoyed the updates! And thank you for all the reviews!

**Lexi: **I had way too much fun writing the breakfast scene. I kept cackling like a madwoman, but it had to be done. Thank you for the review!

**KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl: **I've missed typing out your awesome username! Don't worry about getting behind; I'm always behind on reading updates, because life is busy. Hmm, I'll put you out of your misery for a bit. There's going to be a lot of buildup for a while, because I want to give everyone time to bond and somewhat trust each other, but I'm working on moving the plot along. Slowly but surely. I just wanna have some fun with them before all the big fighting goes down. Thank you so much for the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen  
****Smell The Roses**

* * *

**SAM**

"Oh, Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care!"

"I will shoot you in the face!" It wasn't the worst way he'd ever been woken up, but it wasn't one of his favorites either. Emma was sitting propped up against the headboard, and Dean looked like he was trying to meld his face to the pillow.

"What time is it?" Sam was rubbing his hands across his face when he asked, but Emma must have understood him.

"Seven." Sam's pretty sure they came up to sleep somewhere around nine, so that means they all got a full night of sleep (and then some) for the first time in over a week. Good, because it's time they got back to what they should've been doing all along. There was a time when Sam thought that hunting was never going to be what he should be doing, but that was then. Now he knows that there are people out there that he can help.

"Bobby's?" Dean's voice was a rasp now that he wasn't yelling at Emma, and he could see the way Emma's hand shook in the air as it hovered over Dean's head. Dean must have sensed her, because he blindly reached up to grab her hand and pushed it against his head. Emma grinned over at Sam as she let her fingers run through Dean's short hair, and she lightly scratched against Sam's scalp when he smiled back. Dean's not a very touchy feely person, except for with people he trusts. So the little hunter has grown on his big brother.

"Yeah, we should probably get over there soon and see what we've been missing. Downstairs in ten?" Emma groaned, scrubbed her hands through their hair, and crawled out of the bed.

"She's weird, but I like her," Dean said as he rolled onto his back.

"Because she doesn't put up with you?"

"'Cause she makes you smile and braids your hair. C'mon, downstairs in ten!" Dean was out the door before Sam could think of a reply, and Sam rolled his eyes even though there was no one around to see. He dressed comfortably and packed a duffel just in case they needed to leave today, and Dean was already in the kitchen drinking coffee when he walked downstairs. Sam took the cup and gave it a sniff test, and Dean just looked at him until he handed it back.

"I wouldn't have to do that if you didn't spike your coffee all the time," Sam reminded him.

"I think he should spike it a little," Emma said as she came in. At his questioning look, she explained, "I've got this theory that when Cas recreated Dean's beautimous bod, he switched his liver functions around to depend on alcohol for the filtering system. He needs it to live, Sam."

"Where do you get this stuff?" Dean asked as he took another sip. Emma stopped chugging back her bottle of water and swiped her hand across her lips.

"It's either that or you've got three days left before you keel over from liver damage." Sam snorted into his own cup of coffee as Dean took turns glaring at both of them, but at least they were all awake and able to joke around today. Who knows what's going to happen an hour now? Or even ten minutes, with the way their lives go these days. Once everyone was ready, they marched from their house to Bobby's. The older hunter was already up and yelling into a phone, and he pointed at the couch in a silent command for all of them to sit. Sam immediately sat down with Emma next to him, because it looked like Bobby's day was already off to a rough start, and Dean strolled into the kitchen to fix another coffee.

"I'm gettin' too old for this," Bobby mumbled twenty minutes and three phone calls later.

"How long has it been like that?" Sam asked. The calls were endless and all sounded bloody.

"'Bout a week now." Bobby took a swig from a flask and then looked back at them. "Harlan's been helping me and Jody's been taking messages, but they won't be in for another hour or two."

"Where do you want us?" Dean asked.

"Together or separate?" Sam looked at Dean, who was standing in the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

"I can hunt on my own. I only did it for, like, all of my hunting career. Minus those beginning months," Emma said first.

"And look how that ended." Dean's face was somewhere between a smile and a smirk, and Sam could actually feel Emma bristle beside him.

"Hey, I was, I _am_ a damned good hunter. I don't need someone to babysit me." Emma's arms were crossed when Sam glanced over at her, and she was glaring at Dean in a way that made Sam think of a sixteen year old arguing with their Dad over a curfew. He'd seen it once and thought it was hilarious (and still hated that he'd never had that, because his dad was rarely around anyway).

"Hello, Dean."

"You called your boyfriend!"

"Watch it, Tink." Cas looked between Dean and Emma before looking to Sam, and he just shrugged because there was no way he was explaining the weird argument the other two hunters were having. Bobby was just glaring at all of them and barking orders into a phone.

"You called, Dean?"

"You and the Godsquad found anything yet?" Cas somehow managed to shake his head without ever looking away from Dean's eyes, and Sam heard Emma cooing quietly somewhere next to his shoulder. Huh, she must not be too mad at Dean then.

"No, we were preparing to—"

"Did ya miss us?" Gabriel popped onto the back of the couch behind Emma, so that he was sitting on top of it with Emma in front of his spread legs. His knee was suddenly digging into Sam's shoulder blade, and he barely had to turn his head to give Gabriel a _look_. (It is not a bitchface, no matter what Dean says.)

"Gabriel, you are too old to misuse furniture." So, Michael was back too and standing next to Bobby's desk.

"I'm young at heart," was Gabriel's reply. A hand was suddenly in Sam's hair, and he couldn't tell if it was Emma's or Gabriel's. "You weren't kiddin', sugar bear. It's like silk."

"And he uses generic shampoo! Winchester genetics, man, so unfair." Okay, Gabriel's then.

"Can we help you with anything, Dean?" The more mature of the two archangels in the room was looking at Sam's older brother, because Sam is stuck next to Gabriel and Emma. He'd try to leave and distinguish himself, but there's two hands in his hair now and he doesn't want any of his hair to get ripped out. Not because it feels like silk either; hair ripping _hurts_.

"The monsters are crazier than usual, and we need to split up to hunt. Three hunters out there alone can get messy, but three hunter-angel duos should be able to stay in one piece." Sam wasn't sure if Dean just didn't trust him to hunt alone since they rarely split up, if he was a little worried about Emma solo hunting since coming back topside, or if he just wanted some alone time with his new boyfriend. The first one would make him mad, the second one would make Emma mad, and the last one…the last one Sam could understand.

"Only if I get the Sammoose," Gabriel said with a pat to the top of Sam's head. Sam pushed the hand away and contemplated punching an archangel. Maybe shooting him. Bullets had to still hurt, right?

"I don't mind hunting with Michael as long as he's okay with it." Michael looked at Emma as he nodded his head, and Dean and Cas had a whole conversation with just their eyes.

"Three huntin' parties or one? I ain't got all day!" Everyone in the room jumped, except for the angels. Well, Gabriel jumped. Sam felt it somewhere close to his spine.

"Has it got that bad out there?" Gabriel's words were choppy, like his mouth was full. When Sam glanced over his shoulder, the archangel was cramming an entire Snickers bar into his mouth.

"It's like the supernatural is on LSD or somethin'. Werewolves are turnin' on half-moons, a vamp nest held an elementary school hostage, poltergeists are through the roof, there's been ghoul sightings—"

"We get it, Bobby," Dean said quickly.

"Any idea what's causing it?" Sam asked before Bobby could throw a bottle at Dean's head.

"None."

"I'll send Balthazar and Asmodeus to you. They can help when they're not looking for Elijah and Abaddon." Bobby nodded at the older angel and started shifting through some papers on his desk.

"'Preciate it. Alright. Witches in Seattle. Who wants it?"

"We'll take the witches," Dean said and stalked forward to take the newspaper Bobby held up.

"A string of unnatural deaths in a small town outside of Dallas. The only thing we have to go on is whistling and weird feet."

"Weird how?" Sam met Bobby's eyes and felt Gabriel's leg bouncing behind him.

"I think the term used was backwards."

"Oh! A curupira? Let's take that one," Gabriel said excitedly. Anything that could make Gabriel that happy made Sam feel a little nervous, but what's the worst that can happen? (No, he did not just think that, because something awful always happens after that phrase.)

"Alright, Emma, you can take the werewolves in New York."

"They get witches and a chupacabra, and I get stuck with fangs looking for a heart to munch on."

"It's a curupira," Gabriel corrected.

"Whatever, I'm good with wolves. We're taking the van though, because I needs my bed on wheels. Do you know how to drive?" An archangel driving…Sam couldn't picture it.

"I know the mechanics of driving," was Michael's answer. Which isn't really an answer.

"Yeah, that's what Cas said right before he nearly ran us into a ditch. We're still taking the van."

"Wait, you let Cas drive?!" It's the end of the world, monsters are going crazy, and angels are learning how to drive.

"I wanna learn how to drive! Oh, wait, I already know how to. Sam, can we have a _good_ car?"

"What are you implying about my baby?!" Sam's starting to miss the old Apocalypse.

**EMMA**

"Do vehicles make you uncomfortable too?" Michael hummed quietly as he turned to look at her, and Emma glanced away from the road just long enough to catch the questioning look on the archangel's face. "Cas said driving was slow and confining."

"It is, but I'm not uncomfortable." Emma just nodded and kept driving. They haven't been on the road very long, but that's mostly because it took forever to actually leave. Sam was the only one who had the foresight to pack ahead of time, so Dean and Emma had to take a few minutes to pack some clothes up. Emma's trunk o' weapons was still in the van, along with her mattress and a new fluffy blanket (taken from the closet in her room). Dean's "baby" was fully stocked, and that was where the question of Sam's wheels came into play again.

After conjuring every impractical vehicle that had ever existed, Gabriel gave in to Sam's demands and snapped a truck into the yard. Bobby was up for offering his own hunting gear, but Gabriel took care of that too. The toolbox on the back of the behemoth sized truck was filled with all kinds of goodies, and then came the goodbyes. Emma mostly just stood back with the three angels and watched. Sam and Dean don't hunt separately, not unless they're being stupid about something, and it was a little funny to watch the two brothers say goodbye without violating Dean's "no chick flick moments" rule. Both brothers looked relieved when Cas reminded them that the angels could whisk them away to each other at any second, and that they could all communicate through angel radio.

Now here she is, back in her beautiful van, with an angel riding in her passenger seat. An _arch_angel this time, because her last angel companion is sitting shotgun in his boyfriend's baby. Which is a really weird thought, but hey, it works for them. (Emma's convinced that Dean's plan was to get Cas alone from the get-go, which is why she can't stay mad at Winchester Number One.) This is kinda relaxing though. She's in her home away from home, the windows are rolled down to let in a nice breeze, and there's a quiet country song playing on the radio. Just like old times. Almost.

"You're smiling." Dark brown eyes flicked from the road to the angel and back again.

"I haven't been hunting in a while, and, no, that whole War thing doesn't count. That was some kind of Greek goddess I've never even heard of. This is a normal hunt. Just werewolves doing werewolfy things. I can't believe I'm this happy about a werewolf. I swear, I never thought I'd miss hunting," she finished with a shrug.

"But you were a hunter. Why would you hunt if you didn't like it?"

"Dude, I used to cry when I accidentally ran over squirrels. It's not like I was born a killer. I guess it's an acquired taste."

"You like hunting now?"

"It's not the hunting so much that it's the helping. What I do saves people. I'm not really sure if that makes killing things okay, but I've already been to Hell anyway." She could still _feel_ Michael staring at her, like he wanted to pick her apart and study her until all the pieces made sense. Which is really laughable, because she's a very simple person. Sam probably summed up her life views perfectly when he told her the Winchester family business: saving people, hunting things. Boom. That's it. Oh, and chocolate, but in small print.

"A _zombie_?!" The new voice and the appearance of a face right next to her cheek had her screaming and swerving all over the road, and Emma thanked her lucky stars that they were on a back road.

"Dammit, Balthy! Give a girl a warning next time!" Emma yelled as she righted the big van.

"Did you just call me Balthy?"

"Your name's a mouthful too much when I'm busy not dying."

"If Bobby has asked you to take care of a zombie, you should take care of the zombie," Michael said as if he wasn't paying attention to either of them. It was entirely possible that he was just good at blocking out the unimportant stuff.

"But a zombie? I'm an angel!"

"And Bobby has asked for our help." Michael turned to look at Balthazar, who was kneeling between their two seats and swaying lightly as the van moved.

"Can't you ask for more help from our lazy siblings?" Balthazar wasn't whining, but he was getting very close.

"Only cherubs and angels with my direct permission are allowed to be here. With Elijah and Abaddon freed, we can't take any chances with our brothers and sisters. You and Castiel should not even be here."

"Like Castiel would ever betray his one true love. You don't think I'd join them, do you?" She takes it back, all of it. Balthazar is so totally whining.

"You're still here, aren't you? Heaven's last First General."

"Oh, quit buttering me up. I'll take care of the little zombie." A little rustle and the angel was gone, but Emma's headache was still a dull pain against her temples as she tried to make sense of what she just heard.

"Wait, I thought there were all kinds of angels down here. You know, watching or something." Sam told her a lot of information all at one time, so it's a little hard to remember the details. She's pretty sure that invisible angels are a thing though.

"I used to station garrisons on Earth to watch humanity, but I called everyone home after Lucifer was returned to the Cage. I wasn't a good leader, not for a very long time. I became so focused on ending Lucifer that I forgot to look after the angels, and I've been trying to change things. It was Castiel that suggested we call everyone home to…talk." The look on his face made her think of Dean during a sappy moment, so it looks like the angel isn't a big fan of chick flick moments either.

"And now that we're getting our asses kicked?"

"I can't take the risk of Elijah turning angels against Heaven. He can be very persuasive."

"So, locking them up for their own protection?"

"Something like that."

"Sounds good to me. We definitely can't handle anymore enemies. Does that mean that the only angels left on earth are…you, Cas, Gabriel, and Balthazar?"

"And Elijah."

"Assuming he still is an angel and hasn't hopped on the demon bandwagon with Abaddon."

"Assuming, yes." Emma chewed that over, processed it, and moved on. She's got more than a few hours left of driving to do and then she's going after some werewolves. She doesn't have time to ponder angel politics or worry about angel-demons that are gonna kill them all (probably).

"I'm gonna put on the Beach Boys and sing off-key now."

"If you must."

**SAM**

"Shut up."

"So this demon is staring up at me, or well, down because he was one big SOB, and I told him-"

"_Shut up_."

"-and if anyone around here is gonna be tearing heads off, it's me, bucko, so get in line! Then he said-"

"_Shut. Up_."

"-that really pissed me off, so I sacrificed one of my snacks and shoved a whole Butterfingers right up his-"

"_**SHUT UP!**_"

"Too graphic for you?" It's only been two hours. Two hours of Sam driving and Gabriel talking. The archangel just kept going from one story to another so that all the stories were starting to blend together, and they're not even the good stories. It's like his greatest Trickster hits, and Sam's pretty sure he's not even breathing so that he can just keep going.

"Can we talk about something else? You know, something that doesn't have anything to do with you killing humans." Sam glanced over at Gabriel, who was sitting sideways in the seat so that his back was against the door and his legs were crossed.

"You've got that look in your eye." Gabriel stretched a leg out across the bench seat and tapped Sam's thigh with his bare toes.

"What look?" He doesn't have a look, except for the pinched look of an oncoming headache. Has he mentioned that it's been two hours with Gabriel talking nonstop?

"The one you get right before you stab me with a stake."

"All the stakes are in the toolbox."

"That's not very comforting, Sam. We're supposed to be partners! You can't stake your partner." Gabriel was pouting when Sam looked over at him, and it looked ridiculous on the archangel. Mostly because he was fighting back a smile that made his pout tremble.

"It's not like it'll kill you."

"Still not comforting." Okay, Sam has a few options now. He can keep quiet, listen to a few seconds of silence, and then Gabriel will more than likely go back to his storytelling. Sam can try to come up with his own story and hopefully find some way to outtalk the angel, but he'll probably run out of oxygen before he can outtalk a being that doesn't really have to breathe. His last option, one that he's not really keen on, is to get Gabriel to talk about something with _meaning_. Something that'll give Gabriel something to think about, and Sam will actually be able to participate in the conversation instead of just listening.

"Have you talked to Emma yet?" Sam could feel the narrowed gaze on his face and didn't bother to look away from the road.

"'Bout what?" There was the familiar sound of a candy wrapper and toes poked against the outside of his thigh.

"About what happened with the Melinoe disciple. Seemed like she was really upset," Sam said easily. Of course, what he meant, was that Emma had been out of her mind. Sam hadn't been at his best under the disciple's influence, but he hadn't clung to an archangel's leg after nearly getting choked out.

"We exhausted that talk _weeks_ ago. No point in hashing it out again." Gabriel shrugged when Sam looked over, but his eyes were a little darker than their usual glow. It's what Sam calls the Hell look, because it happens to Dean and Emma too. It's not just the shade of their eyes that gets darker; it's like the light behind their eyes dims whenever they think about Hell.

"She said you kept her from saying yes, because she wanted to. Is that true?" Obviously, this wasn't something he wanted to ask Emma. Even if they hadn't spent the past week and a half working themselves to exhaustion, he wouldn't have asked her.

"You really want me to answer that, Sam?" No nickname. No Gigantor, or Sambo, or Sammoose. Just his name.

"Only if you want to."

"No wonder Dean has a no chick flick rule," Gabriel grumbled. The next few minutes were silent, except for the quiet sound of the truck moving down the highway. The change of the noise level helped ease Sam's impending headache, and he loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He hadn't even noticed he'd been gripping it so tight.

"I wasn't healed enough to save any of you, but I couldn't let you fall into the Cage with Lucifer. You and Adam, you were both just stupid humans that didn't deserve what Lucifer would've done to you once he got you in the Cage. And Michael, he's still a dick, but _someone_ had to put Heaven back in order. I didn't know it'd make me so…"

"Weak?"

"Yeah, something like that. I screamed a lot, at first, just like Emma did. That's something she'll never admit, ya know? That at first you scream for someone to save you, but there is no one. I screamed for her too, but she couldn't hear me. Every time I'd get close to reaching her, they'd tear her soul apart again. They'd tear my grace apart again. Emma is an amazing human, one of my favorites, but she's just human."

"What does that even mean?" Sam was just shocked that Gabriel was admitting any of this, and so seriously. His voice was quiet and even, not teasing and light.

"It means that she should've broken long before the rescue happened. She might have lasted longer than the average Joe on her own, but she still would've been smoke without me. I think she must've heard me, when I'd beg her to hang on. To wait until I'd found a way to heal. I begged her not to turn us into demons." Gabriel's arms were crossed and his head was turned so that he could look out the windshield, and Sam sucked in a slow breath.

"You didn't try calling out for Michael?"

"I didn't think he'd come for me." Gabriel must have felt Sam's questioning stare, because he answered the unspoken question without even looking at Sam. "I ran away, remember? Left when big brother needed me. Why would he save me?"

"Because you're his brother."

"There's that cute optimism I love so much. We're not Winchesters. We don't do the self-sacrificing thing for siblings." That statement went against what Gabriel had done for them, for Sam and Adam and _Michael_, but Sam wasn't going to call him on it. Not this time.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you asked?" Gabriel popped a jawbreaker into his mouth as he finally turned to look at Sam, but the hunter was more focused on the road than on the archangel with too dark eyes.

"Since when do you do anything I ask?" Gabriel's huffed laugh sounded almost loud in the serious air, and toes wiggled against the side of his leg.

"We're partners now, Sammykins. What's a few secrets between partners?" Secrets…was Gabriel trading a secret for a secret? He knew about Sam's worst nightmare and the demon blood (he was scrubbed clean now), and now Sam knew a little more about Gabriel's side of things from Emma's time spent in Hell. Gabriel made them even. That was…uncharacteristically nice.

"Okay, now tell me about this thing we're hunting."

**EMMA**

"Is sitting on top of vehicles customary?" Emma glanced over at her traveling companion and tried not to smile too dopily at his adorably confused expression. The dude is an angelic warrior, for crying out loud! He should not look this cute, with the dark hair and pretty eyes and his bare feet.

"Normally, no, but I'm not exactly normal. Neither are you, angel-boy. Here, try a bite of this." Emma held out her bacon burger for the archangel and watched intently as he took a bite, for science. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, as if he was testing all the different textures and tastes, before nodding at her and swallowing.

When Emma hit up a drive-thru on her way out of town, she tried to talk Michael into eating something. Bobby had given her some credit cards he had laying around since she was a little short on her own cash (you know, because of the whole recently returned from the dead thing), but the archangel argued that he didn't want to waste any of her funds on nourishment that he didn't really need. Emma decided that was fair enough before making another decision to just let him try whatever she got. It was fun watching the archangel try new things, especially when he got that little crease between his brows while trying to figure out something that seemed so simple to her. Like why fries taste better with ketchup. She didn't really like eating in the van and driving if she could help it, so she'd pulled off onto a small dirt path and climbed the small ladder attached to the back doors of the van.

Before, she didn't take many chances to just sit on top of her van and look up at the stars. She did occasionally, when she was healing up between hunts, but not as much as she probably should've. Before, she was always in such a rush. There was always another hunt out there and taking a break for stargazing could mean that someone died while she was goofing off. It took dying for her to realize that people die, whether she's been stargazing or not. So, she parked the van and is now sitting cross-legged on its roof with an angel at her side. They're surrounded by the earthy smell of dirt and pine, she got a chocolate milkshake with her burger and fries, and did she mention that she's stargazing in the middle of nowhere with an archangel? It's the little things in life.

"This is…relaxing." Michael's voice was so quiet and reverent (it was, literally, the only word she could think of to describe that tone). She had to turn to look at him, even though her mouth was stuffed with hamburger meat and a few fries. He was mirroring her position, so his legs were crossed, and he was looking up at the night sky. Did he see what she saw? Little pricks of light against a never ending darkness? Or could he see the actual stars burning away up there?

"That's kinda the point. Sometimes you just gotta stop and smell the roses." The statement was followed by another gigantic bite of her burger, and her eyes narrowed as she accidentally bit the tip of her own finger.

"I can't smell any roses." She groaned around the bacon sprinkled goodness at his innocent tone and shook her head. Dark hazel eyes were already looking at her when she turned her head, and she smiled at the wide eyed look. Man, she was so not prepared for any of this.

"It's an expression. It just means that sometimes you gotta slow down and take in the beauty of what's around you. Don't take things for granted. Stuff like that."

"In our case, that means the sky?"

"For right now, yeah. Oh, and chocolate. Wanna try some? I used to think chocolate was a gift from God. It might still be. Do you think God likes chocolate?" Emma was holding out her milkshake, and Michael met her eyes as he sucked up some of the thick liquid. In normal circumstances, locking eyes with a hot guy as he drinks from a milkshake would be mega hot, but the loud slurping noise and that furrow between his brows just makes the whole thing ridiculously cute.

"I wouldn't know, but I like it." Michael's smile was bright and blinding in the dark, and Emma felt _that_ again. Like how she felt after Michael cleaned out the disciple's influence in her brain. She made him smile like that.

"Good to know, buddy. Maybe we'll buy you your very own chocolate milkshake next time, because people don't normally share their chocolate," she said with a bright smile of her own. She hasn't felt this light in years. _(centuries)_

"But you're not exactly normal." It shocked a laugh out of her, and Michael chuckled along with her as she tried not to choke on her beloved chocolate.

"Not exactly, no." They were quiet as they looked up at the stars, and Emma silently passed over her milkshake for Michael to sip at. "Can you tell me a story?"

"What kind of story?" Michael passed her drink back over, and Emma tried not to think about Blake Mosely from third grade. He'd stolen her juice box, wrapped his lips right where hers had just been, and declared them boyfriend and girlfriend because they'd kissed.

"Something with a happy ending. With a hero that saves the day and gets the girl." A typical bedtime story, something soothing and familiar. Michael's low voice blended in with the darkness as they looked up at the stars, and the story was bloodier and sadder than any story her mom ever told her, but she liked it. She liked it because the night air was sulfur free, she was drinking chocolate, and Michael was smiling. What's not to like?

* * *

**Finis: **More fluff! Just because I love you all so much. Not much action in this chapter, but there will be a little next time. It'll be another different POV chapter, but it's actually plot relevant and not just the main characters goofing off. (Don't worry, there's still plenty of that to come.) Hmm, Gabriel was uncharacteristically chatty in this chapter, about things that actually matter, but that's because he wanted to make things even between him and Sam. Secret for a secret. Also, I really love the idea of Emma and Michael just relaxing while Michael tells her really bloody stories about his past. Perfect balance of cute and gore. Kinda like this story.

One last thing, THANK YOU so much to everyone reading! You're all amazing!


	17. Chapter 17

**TIB: **No warnings.

**KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl:** Thanks for the review! Haha, I'm glad you've enjoyed all the fluff! Hmm, funny you say that, because I wrote a later chapter while hungover and it really helped. You'll know it when you see it.

**Lexi: **Isn't Michael the cutest? I love making a great warrior act like a big ol' fluff ball. Aww, I'm so glad you enjoy the story so much! I'm pretty much okay with any pairing as long as it's well written. Thank you so much for the review!

**Handara: **Think of the fluff as the calm before the storm. The chapters I'm working on now make me want to cry. Haha, it's a skill that I've honed over the years, making scary things adorable. Gabriel needs to try the serious thing for a bit, but he's still a trickster. He won't always be so nice. Thank you for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen  
****Rages Like A Hurricane**

* * *

**ELIJAH **

"How do I look?" He spread his arms wide and tipped his chin back as Abaddon's green eyes ran over him. He was in his vessel, his only vessel, but he was different. The black slacks and dark blue button-up were tailored like all of his usual attire, his dark brown hair was just as thick as always, and brown eyes were locked onto Abaddon's form. He was exactly the same and completely different.

"Oh, Elijah, you're so _dark_." The other demon's voice was a purr of delight, and Elijah was glad that he'd made his sister so happy. He knows that she misses Beelzebub, as if her sword arm has been ripped off. He knows that she hates all this hiding and waiting, that she's just itching to get out there and _destroy_ something. Abaddon will get her chance. Once everything has fallen into place, he'll stand back and watch as his beautiful sister paints the world in shades of red. Red like the dark stains on her smiling lips and as fiery as the hair that falls around her pale shoulders.

"You're too dark, but it suits you." Elijah turned around at the new voice and took in the woman standing in the doorway. She was smaller than him and Abaddon, but human bodies are so good at concealing true natures. He knew her as an angel, and he can still recognize her as a demon.

"You look beautiful, Eve. Is that a virgin?" She ran her thin fingers over the pristine white dress before lifting her dark eyes to his.

"Of course. Do you know why I'm here, Elijah? Why was I freed?" Eve was driven to madness and was the mother of everything that preyed in the dark, but she wasn't a fool.

"We missed you," Abaddon crooned as she laced her arm through Elijah's.

"Don't play with me, Abaddon. I want to know why I'm here." Her voice was strong and left no room for further teasing, and Elijah lightly patted Abaddon's hand where it was gripping his forearm.

"We freed you because we need your help, Eve. I need your help." Dark hair swept across her shoulders as Eve shook her head, and she was smiling when she looked at him.

"Who are you working for this time?"

"Raphael." It was no secret that Raphael and Elijah didn't get along, they never had, so Eve's disbelieving look wasn't surprising. "It's a means to an end."

"Gabriel hid our sweet boy. You haven't found him yet?" Eve would always be on Elijah's side, as long as their son was still alive.

"Not yet, but I will. Raphael is working on a plan of his own and once it's put into action, I'll be able to locate Simon without Gabriel's interference. This is where you come in."

"I'll go check on our minions," Abaddon whispered in his ear before sauntering off. Abaddon was smart, calculating, and ruthless but she's always preferred action over planning.

"What do you need from me, Elijah?" Anything to save Simon.

"First, call off your children. We don't need to draw too much attention to ourselves. There will be time for that later, after."

"And what is after?" She was getting impatient now, her pale cheeks turning pink.

"Raphael wants to open Purgatory." Elijah waited quietly as the words sunk in and watched as her dark eyes widened. Her breath came out in gasps, and there was a feverish hope streaking her neck and face with color.

"My children can return?"

"For a price. Come, sit with me, and we'll discuss the terms. After you tell your little ones to be more careful." Eve was more composed now, and those dark eyes lit up with a bright fire as she spread her influence over her many children. The control that stemmed from her madness was a beautiful thing to watch, and Elijah was just as awed now as he was the first time he watched her whisper soothing words to the creatures she loved so fiercely.

"You better get him back, Elijah. Who knows what Gabriel has done to our baby?"

**SIMON**

"Simon! Hurry up, or you'll be late!" Simon Reynolds, a seventeen year old with some impressive bedhead, tripped his way down the last of the stairs and slid into the kitchen in his socks. He had one arm sticking out of the hole where his head partially was, and he could _hear_ the way his mother's eyes rolled as she set him to rights.

"Is that bacon?" The smell of the best breakfast ever was in the air, and Simon's head finally popped free of its cloth prison just in time to see his dad slide the last piece of bacon into his mouth.

"Sorry, kid. You snooze, you lose." His dad washed down the last of the bacon with a long sip of OJ, and Simon's mouth gaped open like he was doing fish impressions.

"No fair! I didn't sleep good, and you just—Agh!" Suddenly a hand was on his forehead and sweeping through his hair.

"Did you have another nightmare, sweetie?" He looked down into his mom's brown eyes, his eyes, and shrugged.

"Nothin' big. I gotta go! See you this afternoon!" He dropped a kiss onto his mom's cheek, waved to his dad, fell into his shoes, and sprinted from the house. He has a car, but he likes walking to school when the weather is good. And he probably shouldn't drive when he barely got any sleep last night.

They're not nightmares, not all of the time. Sometimes he has nightmares, and they are really weird. The first one was just blood. Blood on him, blood around him, blood clogging his nose and caked under his nails. That one was his least favorite. (The blood was always warm and slick, fresh.) The other nightmares were more like scenes from a movie. Giant winged beings made of light fighting against smoke; light and blood would spill out, screams would ring in his ears, and he was always standing still to just watch. The third dream, the one that he's had for the past week now, isn't a nightmare. It's just something that keeps playing in a loop, and it's starting to drive him a little crazy. The same thing, every single time.

_The sand is hot under his feet, but it doesn't hurt. The heat feels almost cool, like it can't hurt him. His feet and legs are mostly bare; he's mostly bare except for a white tunic. It's tied at his shoulders, shows a wide strip of the top of his chest, and stops before his mid-thigh. (When he's awake, it makes him think of wearing a pillowcase. In the dream, it's so comfortable.) The sky above him is blue and so clear, with big puffy clouds. He's at peace, finally, until _he_ comes. _

_The figure that stands in front of him is beautiful and filled with a light brighter than the sun. It hurts to look at him sometimes, but it's impossible to look away from his golden eyes. Golden hair falls to his shoulders in perfect curls, and his skin is pale and perfect. The man is dressed the same as him, barefoot and barely covered by thin white fabric. They don't talk for long minutes. They just face one another and stare. Simon always feels as if he knows this beautiful man, knows those golden eyes that make him feel like he's burning from the inside out. _

"_I cannot kill you, Simon." The man's voice is a whisper and a roar. (When he's awake, that doesn't make any sense. It's either quiet or loud, but it's not.)_

"_Though you keep trying, uncle." The title always causes those golden eyes to flinch away, only for a moment, before blazing even brighter. _

"_You are an abomination. You were never meant to exist."_

"_Yet here I am. To spite you all." In the dream he holds out his arms, opening and exposing himself all at once. _

"_Yet here you are. I think you can be saved." That's when he notices how dead those golden eyes really are, how completely defeated. The light around the man has become dimmed. (When he's awake, he's not sure how that's possible. The man's so bright that it makes him see little black dots, like when he looks at the sun for a second too long.)_

"_There is nothing left to be saved. You made sure of that." Simon laughs then, and it sounds cold. It sounds just as defeated as the man's eyes. _

"_I will make amends. I will find a way to make this right." The man steps forward, and Simon holds still. Hands smooth across his cheeks and hold him still, and those eyes spit fire at him. "I will save you, nephew."_

Simon always wakes up from that dream with sore eyes and the taste of blood in his mouth. He hates that dream the most because it doesn't make any sense. He can at least blame the other two on too many violent movies or video games, but that dream? No sense at all. The worst part is that it feels so real. He can feel the sand under his toes and the sun on his face. Can hear the sound of the other man's voice, the softness of it and the way it rages like a hurricane. He wakes up angry and hurt, and he doesn't know _why_. He just wants to know what it all means and then he wants it to stop.

Simon just wants to get some sleep without seeing a light brighter than the sun.

**ADAM**

"What's the point of drinking if we can't get drunk?" He was lying across the bar and staring at the now empty can, and Ash lifted his head from where it was pressed against the old wood. He was sitting farther down, somewhere around Adam's knee, and there was a light red mark under his bangs.

"No hangovers," Ash mumbled. He's spent the past week staring at his computer screen, trying to crack through some angel barriers to find out what's going on. Adam keeps telling him to just let it go. So the angels have learned how to socialize in secret. So what? As long as they're not messing with any of them, there's no point in getting in their business.

"When was the last time you boys went outside?" Adam turned his head around to face the main floor and smiled up at his mom. His mom has a best friend, and she's happy. She's happy, and Adam can see her whenever he wants.

"What's outside?" Ash asked. Adam rolled his eyes at his friend and then his eyes fluttered closed as his mom ran her fingers through his hair.

"You boys need to get out and have some fun," Pam said as she dropped her elbows onto Adam's stomach. He huffed out a breath and then held still as his mom's new BFF used him as something to prop on.

"We partied with Abe Lincoln last week," Adam pointed out. That had been a weird day, but Ash wanted to teach a president how to do the Macarena.

"You shouldn't be partying with historical figures. You should be learning from them." Adam loved it when his mom went all mother hen on him. It was something he rarely got growing up, since she was always so busy and at work, and it was just…nice.

"I talked to George Washington for a little while. He makes a really good cherry pie," Adam said with a smile. His mom was smiling down at him, and Pam was tapping out a rhythm against his ribs.

"I'm still trying to figure out this angel thing," Ash grumbled with a longing look at his computer. Adam just knew that he was itching to get back, but the guy was driving himself crazy trying to hack it.

"Stop meddling with the angels, Ash. Nothing good will come from it." It sounded like Pam was reading his mind. That's what he's been telling Ash since he started obsessing over this thing.

"Something's happening, and I'm gonna figure out what." With that declared, Ash drained another can and moved back to his computer. Adam decided to just let him go; there's no arguing with Ash once he's made up his mind. He turned to look at his mom, who was still smoothing her hand through his hair.

"Have you been to Jenny Robertson's Heaven? It's a huge carnival."

"If we go, will you win me a stuffed toy?" His mom's blue eyes sparkled down at him, and Adam smiled up at her.

"The biggest one we can find."

**MO**

"Emma." The little hunter jumped and placed a hand over her heart. She was standing on a sidewalk outside of a very nice house, and she was dressed differently than what Mo was used to. The jeans were replaced with a pair of nice gray slacks, and she was wearing a nice blue blouse. Her hair was pinned back neatly, and she was even wearing a pair of glasses on the end of her nose.

"Yo, Mo, what brings you here?" She tucked a small notebook into her pants pocket and smiled up at him. The bright sunlight made her dark eyes a little lighter, and Mo loved seeing her easy smile. It was so different from the hopeless smiles in the Pit. "If you're looking for Michael, I told him I could handle the interviews on my own so he took off to check on the others."

"No, I came here to see you. We haven't had a chance to really talk since you've returned. I've missed talking to you, love." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him, and her arm looped through his as she started walking.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you. I know you're on the good guy side now, and as for the Hell stuff…well, I was just another poor bastard on the rack." Sweet little Emma. How many times did he stop to visit her in Hell? He watched as they tore her apart and listened as she railed against her torturers. So much fire.

"Apology accepted. Have you been adjusting well?" It was something that he worried about. People don't just leave Hell, not unless they've been reduced down to smoke.

"Depends on how you define well. I've got some Enochian symbol that keeps the worst of the dreams away, but things still slip through. I haven't had a waking flashback in a few days, so I'm getting better with that. Seeing Eligos didn't help." Her shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug, but the hand on his arm kept its light grip. Mo had to wonder if he'd ever stop being surprised at the strength of some humans.

"I am sorry about that. It was his only condition." It took both him and Meg days to break the old demon, and Mo was close to giving up when the demon finally agreed to talk. Just not until after he'd seen Emma.

"'S all good. We got him to talk. So, how are things?" They were still just walking down the sidewalk, arms locked, and talking quietly. What did they look like to the outside world? Did they look like lovers out for a stroll? Two people without a care in the world?

"The demons are getting better at hiding, but Meg seems to know all the best hiding spots." Emma tensed and then immediately relaxed, and Mo knew why. Meg enjoyed torturing the little human as well.

"I'm sure she does. Make sure you tell her I said hello." Emma smiled up at him, but it wasn't one of her easy smiles. She was smiling for his benefit. This resilient little human was smiling to appease a demon that pet her hair in Hell as she was tortured.

"Asmodeus."

"Whoa! You dudes have gotta just stop popping up whenever. Or at least warn me." Emma's fingers were curled tight around his arm, and her chin was tipped up the tiniest bit so she could glare at the archangel.

"Hello, Michael." Standing in his older brother's presence was never going to get any easier. Even in his weaker constructed vessel, he was so bright.

"And what did we say about shoes?" Mo glanced down to see Michael's bare toes wiggling against the concrete sidewalk, and he was surprised to see the mighty warrior frown at the small human.

"Wear them when others can see."

"That's right, or people are gonna start thinking you're homeless." Emma sighed and knocked her temple against Mo's bicep. "Just put on some flipflops, at least."

"I'll try to remember next time," Michael said after a pair of plain black sandals appeared on his feet. Mo wasn't sure if he should be amused or awed, so he felt a mixture of both. Little Emma was bossing around an archangel, and he was _letting_ her.

"I should return to Meg. Thank you for talking with me, Emma."

"Anytime, Mo." She kept her face tilted up to his and just looked at him, and after a moment she raised up on her toes with a pointed look. When he kept just looking down at her, she rolled her eyes behind her glasses and pointed to her forehead. Oh, right. He leaned down and pressed his lips against her hair line, and she wasn't smiling at him when he pulled away. She didn't have to.

"Goodbye." He opened his eyes to see a basement and Meg with blood staining her clothes. She raised a brow at his clean appearance and swept some hair back from her face. It left a bloody streak on her cheek, and there was a very dead demon tied to a table behind her.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yes."

"Feel better?" Meg's dark eyes were laughing at him, she was always laughing at him, but he could see the concern there too. They've spent months together now, torturing and looking out for one another. Mo might even call them friends, if demons can have friends.

"A little, yes. She said to tell you hello." Meg snorted and tossed her knife onto the dead demon.

"I don't know why you're so worried about her. It was _Hell_. People get tortured there. That's the way it is." He knew Meg was telling the truth, and he had no reason to feel guilty about a soul being tortured. Except, he knew little Emma's soul was pure and it didn't belong in Hell. Pure or not, she wasn't the first clean soul to pass through Hell and she wouldn't be the last. Perhaps he was just getting too old.

"You're right, as always," he said with a small smile. Meg's dark eyes lit up, and she placed her bloody hands on her hips.

"That's right. Now where's my reward?" Her smile was dark and teasing, and Mo was across the room in an instant to run his hands through her bloody hair. Maybe he wasn't too old after all.

* * *

**Finis: **Yes, another multi-POV chapter. It's needed for plot development! Also, I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I try to write ten chapters ahead. I'm working on 26 now, so I'm a little behind, but the plot is really thickening there. So, enjoy these little chapters and the fluff ones, because they won't last forever. (Just kidding, I'll always sneak in some fluff somehow.)

Okay, further explanation time! First off, I loved the Eve character so I had to bring her back. Also, I can see her and Abaddon as friends that hate each other. For anyone who's confused, Eve is Simon's mother. Eve and Elijah did the dirty, and Simon was brought into the world. The angels don't know who his real mother is though. Speaking of the unkillable kid, he's in this chapter! He's going to be a huge character in the story later on, so I wanted to bring him in early so people can get used to him. (In his dream, that's Gabriel. Just to clear things up.)

The Adam scene was because I want to show how worried Ash is, because something is obviously going on, and I wanted a tiny bit of fluff. Just a smidge. Also, I love the idea of Adam's mom and Pam as BFFs. And sorry about the president jokes. I couldn't help myself. I threw in some Emma and Michael too, so they weren't completely MIA. (Emma is working the werewolf case, FYI.)

I'll post again soon since this was a different POV chapter, and I think everyone will like the next one.


	18. Chapter 18

**TIB: **No major warnings for this one.

**Lexi:** Thanks for the review! Yeah, I like changing it up a bit every once in a while. I really love Mo, but it did take me a while to figure out what he was up to. Then I thought of that Emma-Michael scene, and it all worked out.

**KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl: **No! You'll miss out on all the fun stuff! Hmm, I don't think I have any big cliffhangers so you should be safe. It'll be a while, but Simon will definitely play a big part. I'm really excited to get there, because I love Simon's character. (I picture him as Dylan O'Brien, if you like having a visual.) Thank you for the review!

**It'sBeenARealSlice:** Aww, thank you! I'm so glad you've enjoyed it so far! Yeah, there has been a lot of fluff considering it's a Supernatural story. I promise, there will be some badass moments later on. Thank you so much for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen  
****All Tuckered Out**

* * *

**SAM**

"Gabriel! After I kill this thing, I'm killing you!" Sam dodged another fireball and grit his teeth as the small creature roared with laughter. It almost looked like a kid, with fluffy red hair and freckles across his nose. Except for the feet. Its backwards feet. Gabriel also forgot to mention about the illusions the creature could make and the _fireballs_.

"Don't be like that, Sammykins!" The archangel was sitting on a tree limb and steadily working his way through a bag of caramel popcorn, while Sam ran around the forest floor and tried not to get set on fire. The curupira had been killing any human that wandered into the woods, apparently to protect it, and it was not happy to see Sam. Except for the maniacal laughter.

"How do I kill it?!" The plan was to investigate where the disappearances occurred, not to immediately find the creature and get attacked. Sam normally had to work a little harder before finding whatever he was hunting.

"Thought the big bad hunter didn't need any help from an _archangel_?!" Gabriel yelled down. He only had to yell because Sam was a little farther away than usual and still dodging fireballs. Has he mentioned the giant balls of fire aiming for his head? Okay, he might have tried talking Gabriel into staying in the truck while he checked out the woods, but that was just because he wanted a little peace and quiet. He couldn't exactly track something with the archangel chattering up a storm.

"Gabriel!" He hissed as a fireball singed his arm, and he rolled behind a tree to suck in a quick breath. The little curupira popped up right in his face with a smile that showed off its little pointed teeth, and Sam kicked out on reflex. The kick sent the small creature sailing, but Sam knew it wouldn't be gone for long. It was fast.

"Fine! Cut off its feet!" There was the sound of a snap, and Sam blinked as a sword appeared in his hand. An actual sword, complete with a golden hilt and a long gleaming blade. It's not that Gabriel's dramatic ways are surprising, but a sword? Couldn't he have just given him a machete? "Here it comes!"

A high pitched screech made his ears ring, and Sam blindly swung as his eyes closed against his will. His ears made a popping sound as the sound reached a new height, and he forced his eyes to open back up. His blind swing cut into the creature's calf, a little bit above his ankle, so that its leg was barely hanging on. Still, it wasn't good enough. He could see Gabriel cheering (literally cheering, with pompoms and sparklers spelling his name in the air over the archangel's head) but couldn't hear him. That wasn't a good sign. The curupira's tiny teeth gnashed as it flew at his face, and Sam gripped the hilt of the sword like a baseball bat and swung from his hips. The long sword easily cut through the small legs, and Sam collapsed back against a tree as the tiny creature threw its head back in a screech. He was grateful that he couldn't hear at the moment, because veins were throbbing against the curupira's neck as it continued to wail. Then it exploded into little red petals and was swept away by a breeze that wasn't there a moment before.

The sword slipped from his fingers and disappeared as Gabriel appeared in front of him, and Sam watched the way that Gabriel's lips moved as he talked. He couldn't hear anything, which wouldn't bother him if his ears weren't pounding. It'd be nice to hear nothing but silence for a little while; it'd keep him from wanting to stab an archangel that wouldn't die anyway. Gabriel stopped talking when he realized that Sam wasn't responding (not that Sam could usually get a word in edgewise anyway) and just looked up at him. He must have figured out what was wrong, because he stepped forward and tapped a finger against Sam's left earlobe. Sound returned in a rush, and Sam reached up to rub his ears.

"Thanks," he mumbled and took stock of the rest of his body. He was sweaty and breathing hard, but that was from the running and dodging. His right arm had a burn on it, but he wouldn't need a hospital. Just some cream and a bandage. A finger tapped the back of his hand, and the burn disappeared. Or maybe he just needed an archangel.

"We could've avoided all that if you'd just let me help," Gabriel said in a singsong voice.

"I didn't tell you not to help," Sam pointed out. He'd just said something about Gabriel waiting in the truck so he wouldn't get bored trekking through the forest.

"You tried to get rid of me. How many times do I have to remind you that we're partners?"

"How many times did you kill Dean?" Gabriel's eyes narrowed, and Sam watched with cautious eyes as he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The archangel disappeared, and Sam let out a slow breath. That was a low blow, he'll admit that, but he's tired. He barely got any sleep because he couldn't seem to get comfortable in the passenger seat. It was softer and roomier than the Impala, but Gabriel had been driving and _still talking_. He just spent the past forty-five minutes running and ducking behind trees to avoid fireballs while Gabriel sat in a tree and snacked, and he's just…tired.

When he got back to the truck, after another twenty minutes of trekking through the woods, Gabriel was sitting in the passenger seat. He wasn't sitting sideways like he'd done for most of the drive, instead he was facing forward and had his head propped up against the window. He kept his eyes closed as Sam climbed up into the driver seat, and he didn't say a word as the truck started and pulled onto the small dirt path. So, Gabriel was going to give him the silent treatment. That was just fine with him. He was tired of hearing the archangel's voice anyway.

Sam's not really sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't for Gabriel to keep quiet for only ten minutes before breaking. Ten minutes of Sam driving down an old back road to get back to town, so that maybe he could find a motel room with a shower. The archangel suddenly sat up straight, and he was smiling so big that his cheeks looked stretched and his eyes crinkled. He didn't say anything as he snapped his fingers, and Sam yelled out a little blasphemy as the road he was driving down disappeared and was replaced with a motel parking lot. His foot slammed down on the brake even though the truck was turned off, and he turned to glare at the archangel that was laughing like a hyena.

"C'mon, grumpy, we gotta see this!" Gabriel popped out of the truck and was suddenly standing in front of it, and Sam scrambled to get the door open and slide out. The truck was parked next to a big black van, Emma's van. Gabriel was already opening a door, and Sam hurried to catch up with him. What was happening now?

**EMMA**

"Okay, let's go over what we know," Emma said as she spread out pictures and pages of notes on the creaky motel bed. She normally doesn't stay at motels, but they've been here for a couple of days and she likes taking regular showers.

"You collected all this while pretending to be a news reporter?" Michael asked. He was sitting in one of the small chairs at the foot of the bed, and Emma was sitting somewhere close to the headboard.

"Yup. It works for me. I just look at people with big eyes and invite them to tell me all their problems, off the record, of course." The angel looked a little confused, but Emma didn't feel like explaining the finer points of deception to an archangel today. So, back to the matter at hand. "The last two full moons, these cabins have been attacked."

"Is there a pattern to how the cabins are chosen?" Emma tapped the campground map and shook her head.

"Not that I can tell, but they're going for the more remote ones. Now, tomorrow is the full moon, so I'm thinking that we can go to this cabin here." She pointed to a small square circled in red that was set apart from a small cluster of other squares. "We can sprinkle some blood around outside, which should get them to come running. I'll wait on the roof with some handy dandy silver bullets and see what happens. If you don't mind, you can keep a check on the rest of the campground to make sure they don't go after a different cabin."

"I can do that," Michael said with a serious head nod. Emma can admit that she likes hunting on her own; it's easier to focus if she doesn't have to worry about someone else. But Michael? Dude is an archangel that can definitely take care of himself, so no worries there.

"Alright, we've got a game plan. We're out of light now, so we'll go scope the place out first thing in the morning." Michael nodded again, and Emma looked down at the pictures surrounding her. Two months ago, a cabin with six teenagers was attacked. They were just kids out for a fun weekend. Kayla Mickens's mother said the cabin trip was a present from Kayla's boyfriend's dad to congratulate all of them on their early acceptance letters. Last month, it was a cabin with a family of four. The oldest kid had been thirteen and the youngest only four; both girls had their father's eyes.

"They're in Heaven now," Michael said quietly.

"Are they happy?" Emma wasn't crying, but she felt…just really fucking sad. Michael reached over to grab the picture of the family and looked down at their smiling faces; it was one of those sappy family portraits that belonged on a dust free fireplace.

"Rose Martin's Heaven is of their beach vacation from two years ago. Kim had problems walking on the sand and kept laughing when she would fall, and Delilah built a sand palace with her father. They're happy," Michael said as he gently set the picture back down. Well, at least they're happy. There's nothing that can be done about it anyway.

"Alright, let's do this the Winchester way and ban chick flick moments before I turn into a leaky faucet. How about tacos for dinner?" Emma smiled as she met the archangel's dark hazel eyes, and he was just getting ready to reply when they both heard a quiet rustle of wings. Cas was standing next to Michael's chair, and Emma blinked to try and clear her vision. Nope, Cas was still standing there with a toddler in his arms.

"Put me down. Now!" Cas bent at the waist to place the kid on the floor, and the little kid shuffled around to glare at them. He couldn't be any older than three, four was definitely pushing it, but his green eyes were giving off a fierce glare. His dark blonde hair was sticking straight up and light freckles dotted his cheeks, and Emma felt like cooing at the little cutie.

"I didn't know what else to do," Cas said quickly. His blue eyes were wide and bordering on panic, and his unruly hair was even fluffier than usual.

"You wied to us! You said dis wouldn't 'appen!" There was a childish lisp to the words, and the little boy's pretty green eyes were watering as he glared right at her. Then Emma processed his words and almost passed out.

"Holy shi—Dean!"

"Were you espectin' da Easter bunny?! Fis me!" He looked like he was gearing up for a full blown temper tantrum, and Emma carefully eased off the bed and over to him.

"Explain," Michael said with a pointed look at Cas. Emma was kneeling in front of Dean and having a staring contest with the little toddler. He was just so cute!

"The witch has been attempting to curse Dean but has failed every time. I am not sure why she was able to this time," Cas said with a worried look at child-sized Dean.

"You wied!" little Dean yelled and poked her nose. Emma went cross-eyed and wondered if the toddler would hit her if she tried cuddling him.

"The protection charms only work against harmful spells. Huh, looks like she found a loophole."

"This is too 'armful!" Little fists rubbed against watery eyes, and Emma's fingers shook with the urge to comfort the little kid.

"How long has he been like this?" Emma asked and looked up at Cas.

"A few hours. I didn't want to leave him alone while hunting the witch," Cas explained.

"A few hours, huh? Looks like someone needs a nap." Okay, yeah, she cooed a bit. It's Dean's fault for being an adorable little shit!

"Do not," he pouted.

"Hey, Michael? You think you can conjure me up a nice big recliner?" A big chair appeared where the musty couch was just a moment ago, and Emma listened to her knees pop as she stood up. She held her hand out to little Dean, who tipped his head back to give her a very impressive glare for someone so small.

"I'll go with Castiel to take care of the witch. Pray if you need me." Emma nodded at Michael's words and listened to the ruffle of feathers. Once the angels were gone, Dean gripped her hand with his little one and let her lead him over to the recliner. Emma sat down first and lifted Dean up into her lap, and she wound her arms around his small body as he cuddled into her chest.

"Tell anyone and you're dead," the toddler grumbled through a wide yawn. Poor little guy was all tuckered out.

"Whatever you say, oh fearless one. Get some sleep, little guy."

"'M not a baby." Emma ran her fingers through his soft blonde hair (it must have darkened as he got older) and hummed a bit as she pushed against the floor with her toes. She kept up the light humming as the recliner started to rock, and Dean's little hands gripped her shirt as he started drooling on her chest. Such a charmer.

"_Gabriel, you are not gonna believe this."_

**SAM**

"Gabriel! You can't just—" He was cut off as he stepped through the motel door and a hand slapped over his mouth. Gabriel's bright golden eyes stared up at him, and the smile on his face was downright scary.

"Shh! You don't wanna wake him up, do you?" What was the archangel babbling about now? Gabriel pulled his hand away and nearly bounced across the room to settle down at the end of the bed, and Sam quickly took in the room. One queen sized bed covered with papers, small kitchen table, and then he found Emma. She was sitting in a recliner that looked too nice to have come with the room, and she was holding a little kid in her lap.

"Where'd the kid come from?" he whispered. The little boy was definitely asleep, and Emma raised a hand to beckon him over. Sam slowly stepped past Gabriel, who was still smiling a little too much, and over to where Emma was gently rocking the chair. Now that he was right in front of her, he could hear that she was humming quietly. The little kid was a little boy with shaggy blonde hair and freckles on his cheeks, and he was snuggled up to Emma's chest and drooling onto her tee shirt. Sam knew who it was, but it couldn't be. Could it?

"Please tell me that's Dean's illegitimate child," he whispered. Emma grinned and shook her head, and Sam stared down at the little boy. Dean was a toddler now?

"Isn't he such a cutie? Can we keep him like this?" Gabriel whispered. The archangel was standing right next to him now and peering down at the sleeping kid.

"What happened?" Sam asked. Gabriel snapped a couch into existence as Emma started explaining, and Sam took in the information. So there was a loophole around the anti-witchcraft protection. They were only protected from harmful spells, but turning someone into a toddler isn't necessarily harmful. That's good to know.

"Michael and Cas are taking care of the witch now, so Dean should be back to normal soon," Emma finished. His big brother was three years old. He's too tired to deal with all this. "Sammy bear, I love you and everything, but you reek. Feel free to use the shower."

"Shut up," he said before Gabriel could get a single word out. The archangel pouted at him and then went right back to cooing at the sleeping toddler with Emma. Sam looked at Dean one last time and then went back outside to the truck. He had a feeling that he should be freaking out, because his brother was a toddler and extremely vulnerable, but he trusted Cas and Michael to take care of the witch. (He still isn't used to trusting anyone that's not Dean or Bobby, except for Cas because Cas is one of them.)

"We'll keep him safe, Sam," Emma said quietly as he walked back in. She was curling a lock of blonde hair around her finger, and the toddler was snoring quietly through his drool. It was cute and disgusting, and Emma smiled across the room at him with sleepy eyes. Gabriel was still sitting on the very nice couch and being quiet for once, so Sam nodded at the other hunter and went into the bathroom.

He barely remembers taking a shower. Maybe they should've waited an extra day before going out, because one hunt shouldn't have him this tired. Even if he did spend nearly an hour running around and trying not to die. That's kind of normal for him anyway. Everything was still the same when he walked out, except for Emma. The back of the recliner was pushed back and the foot rest was up, so that she was laying down with Dean's head nestled somewhere around her neck and his little body half sprawled out over her chest. She was also sound asleep and holding onto Dean like he was her favorite teddy bear.

"Aren't they just precious?" Gabriel cooed. Sam eased himself down onto the couch and slowly let his body relax, which was a little hard to do with an archangel staring at him. He could feel the gaze against the side of his face like Gabriel was repeatedly poking his cheek.

"Adorable," Sam drawled. He was so tired that he could barely keep his head up. The sound of snapping fingers reached his ears, and he was suddenly horizontal and flat on his back. His feet were on cushions, not hanging over the edge of anything, and there was a soft pillow under his head. His eyes blinked open, and his vision was a bit fuzzy. Probably because Gabriel's upside down face was right in his.

"Better?" He was laying on the couch with his head in Gabriel's lap. At least the archangel put a pillow across his thighs.

"Still mad." The words came out slurred like his tongue was thick, and Gabriel frowned. No, wait, upside down. Gabriel smiled. Why was the archangel smiling? Sam was _mad_ at him. And why was there a hand in his hair?

"Sleep, Sam." It was the best thing the archangel had said all day.

**EMMA**

Everything is pain. Her head, her chest, her _back_. Sweet fuck, it feels like she got trampled by a herd of stampeding elephants. A loud groan vibrated against her ear, and Emma let out an answering groan of her own as her tailbone started throbbing. Why does everything hurt so much? She wasn't hurting when she fell asleep. She was in the exact opposite of pain. She'd been stretched out on a really comfy recliner and cuddling…Dean. She'd been cuddling a toddler sized Dean, who doesn't feel like a toddler anymore.

"Talk about a growth spurt," Emma moaned.

"Shut it, Tink," Dean grumbled. Now that Emma was awake and somewhat thinking, the reality of what happened hit her. Dean must have turned back into his full sized self and, since he'd fallen asleep sprawled across her upper half, the chair snapped. Not even a recliner summoned by an archangel could withstand both their weights balanced on one end.

"Dean?" Ah, so the angels have returned! Maybe one of them can dislodge the chair spring from her spine.

"Little help here?" The crushing weight on her chest disappeared, and Emma was finally able to pull in a full breath. She should probably get up, since it doesn't feel like anything is broken, but just breathing is nice for right now. A face appeared over her own, and she grinned up at Michael.

"Are you alright, Emma?" The archangel doesn't look too worried, but there's something in his hair. Feathers?

"Did you get into a pillow fight without me?" His head tipped to the side as he looked at her, and Emma wanted to laugh but the literal pain in her ass stopped her.

"No, I didn't fight any pillows. Just the witch." He held a hand out to her, and Emma was gracefully pulled to her feet. By gracefully, she means with a few pops and something between a whine and a hiss. Cas and Dean were staring at each other on the other side of the chair wreckage, like they were having a whole conversation that no one else could hear.

"Would you keep it down?! He's trying to sleep!" Emma twisted her head at the furious whisper, yelped (quietly) when her neck popped, and felt her eyes widen. Gabriel was sitting on a very pretty couch that definitely didn't belong in the crappy motel room, and Sam was stretched out next to him with his head pillowed on Gabriel's lap.

"What'd you do to him?" Dean asked. Gabriel glared at the elder Winchester but didn't take his hand out of Sam's hair. Emma thought the whole thing was cute. She'd coo, but she's now very aware of the dried and crusty drool on her tee shirt. You can't coo when you're wearing crusty drool.

"He was tired. Now he's sleeping," Gabriel explained slowly. It was like he was talking to a toddler, which made Emma snort back a laugh. Because Dean was just a toddler and was being an idiot, so it's funny.

"Speaking of sleeping, I'd like to get back to it. I've still got a job to do tomorrow," Emma pointed out. Michael nodded helpfully, and it's good to have an archangel on her side.

"I'll call Bobby and see where he wants us next." Dean looked stiff as he walked around the couch and out the front door, so at least she's not the only one hurting from their little fall. Before the air could get awkward, Emma shuffled away from the broken chair and over to the bed. She was still gathering papers when Dean walked back in, and he ran a hand over his tired face.

"Gabriel, you've got a poltergeist in an apartment in New Haven, Nebraska. Cas, we've got demons in Utah." Emma met Dean's eyes, the same green as his toddler self, and wisely didn't say anything. The hunter was turned into a child, so there's got to be some wounded pride hidden under that tough guy face. She'll try talking to him after he's killed something.

"Thank you for your help, Michael." Cas grabbed Dean's shoulder, and the two were gone after a rustle of feathers.

"Guess we should head out too, unless big brother doesn't give good cuddle." Gabriel glanced over the back of the couch to wink at her, and Emma tossed one of her socks at his head. She doesn't wear socks if she can help it, but there's always at least one hanging out of her bag.

"Go on and get! And be nice to Sam."

"You're killing me here, sugar bear. Would I ever be mean to Sam?" Emma just narrowed her eyes and didn't bother to answer.

"At least treat him with respect, Gabriel." Okay, Michael is on Team Sam. Of course he is, because Sam is the best. Emma has decreed it so.

"Don't worry, bro. I'll still respect him in the morning." A snap later the couch was gone, along with Sam and Gabriel. Emma rolled her eyes, but the smile stretching her face kind of cancelled it out.

"Your brother is a handful, just saying."

"Yes, he is." Michael was smiling too, and Emma felt all warm and giddy inside as she went into the bathroom. She took a quick shower and changed into some pajamas, and Michael was already laying on the bed when she came out. He was wearing the same old jeans and black tee shirt, and his toes wiggled a bit when he caught sight of her. The blanket on the right side of the bed was flipped over, and Michael was laying on top of the blanket on the left side. It was like he protecting a virtue that she doesn't even have, which should be laughable, if it wasn't so darn cute.

"I'm guessing everything with the witch went okay?" She flicked off the light before shuffling over to the bed and flipping the thin blanket over herself, and she wiggled around so that she was facing Michael. He was laying on his back with his hands laced over his stomach, and he turned his head to look at her before answering. She could barely see him in the dark, but her eyes were quickly adjusting.

"It took some time to locate her; she was very powerful, but Castiel and I took care of her." Emma was just glad the feathers were out of his hair because there was no way she was going to be able to take him seriously with fluffy white feathers haloed around his head.

"That's good. Are you gonna recharge tonight or just lay there?"

"I haven't decided yet." Okay then. She wiggled down a little to get more comfortable and nuzzled against the thin pillow, and her hands curled under the edge of the pillow as she closed her eyes.

"Hey, Michael?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you tell me another story? Any kind of story, it doesn't matter." A part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what his face looked like, to see if he looked annoyed or something similar, but she didn't. She just laid still and listened to the sound of her beating heart. After four beats, Michael started talking. His voice was quieter than usual in the dark room, and Emma fell asleep to the now familiar sound.

**SAM**

Something wasn't right. There wasn't anything wrong, his gut instincts told him that much, but there was definitely something different. For one, his pillow was moving. No, wait, not his pillow. His cheek was still pressed against the ridiculously soft pillow that Gabriel had placed between his head and the archangel's lap, but his forehead and nose was brushing against something that was moving. He was on his side with his legs completely stretched out and still not hanging off the end of anything, and a thick blanket was wrapped around him. He slowly inched his head back and opened his eyes, and he tried not to groan as his suspicions were confirmed. He really needs to stop falling asleep near the archangel. Cuddling him and playing with his hair was bad enough, but burying his face against Gabriel's stomach?

The archangel was sitting up on the couch, with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He must be recharging or whatever he called it. Gabriel looked almost peaceful when he wasn't talking, but there were small creases over his forehead. Do angels dream? The hand tangled in his hair flexed, but Gabriel's eyes stayed closed and his breathing was even. Gabriel's other hand was resting lightly on the blanket over Sam's stomach, and Sam's own arms were wrapped the archangel's forearm. Too weird. So weird. Especially considering his dream. He couldn't remember the whole thing, except for the small part plucked from his memory of the Melinoe disciple. Gabriel and Not-Ruby had been arguing. At the time his head had been so foggy that he didn't really pay attention to them, but he kept coming back to their quick exchange.

"Why'd you kill Dean?" Sam whispered, even though the archangel couldn't hear him.

"Because you both have severe codependency issues." Okay, maybe Gabriel could hear him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing was still even, and his fingertips were lightly massaging Sam's scalp.

"You told the disciple it was to keep me away from Ruby. You knew what was coming." It was an accusation and a question.

"Yeah, I knew."

"You didn't try to stop Dean from going to Hell and breaking the first Seal, and we didn't see you at all while the Seals were being broken. Why step in then?" It'd never made any sense to Sam. Not when he thought it was just the Trickster and even less when he learned that it was really Gabriel.

"Wanted to save you some pain." Sam snorted at that and watched the corner of Gabriel's lips twitch. "I didn't want to be noticed, by Lucifer or Michael, because I ran. I ran from my brothers and lived a pretty good life. I thought, maybe, you could do the same if you didn't do something stupid."

"Like drinking demon blood?"

"Like living on revenge and trusting in the wrong person." Gabriel was still completely relaxed and still hadn't opened his eyes, and Sam hadn't let go of his arm. This should be weird or awkward; he should be yelling at the archangel for going about everything the wrong way. For killing Dean so many times and then stringing him along for months. For wanting them to wear his brothers and end the world. But he couldn't, because he kinda got it. Gabriel was still an idiot, but he was an idiot that came through in the end and managed to save them after all.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Sammykins." Two beats of silence. "Really, don't mention it. I've got a reputation to uphold."

"I'll put it on a tee shirt." Gabriel's eyes finally peeked open, and Sam had to look away from the golden gaze. He's gotta stop hanging around Emma. She makes up poems about Gabriel's eyes (and Cas's hipbones) whenever she gets bored. (Sam's pretty sure the ones about Cas's hipbones are just to get Dean to blush and yell at her.)

"Alright, Lurch, sharing and caring time is over. We've got a poltergeist to play with." Sam let go of Gabriel's arm and felt fingers pulling free from his hair, and he rolled his shoulders once he was sitting up. He felt well rested and ready to face the day, but there was one thing rattling around his thoughts.

"Where are we?"

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**Finis: **Enjoy this fluff while you can. I'm writing ahead, and it's less fluffy. A lot less fluffy. You'll miss these chapters later on.

Curupira is a real thing, mythologically speaking, but I added in the fireballs bit. I didn't even plan on the fireballs; they just kind of happened. Also, Gabriel's a little shit because I feel like that suits his personality better. And I wanted him to cheer his hunter on. I turned Dean into a toddler just because I wanted to, and to show that the protection symbols are not foolproof. Everything has a loophole. There are some serious moments too to balance out the little bit of fluff. I'm really curious about what people think of the Sam-Gabriel conversation at the end…


	19. Chapter 19

**TIB: **I really like this chapter. I had fun writing it, so hopefully you'll have fun reading it!

**Lexi:** Thank you for the review! Haha, it was fun writing toddler!Dean. Maybe a little too fun. And I'm glad you liked the Sam/Gabriel talk! I feel like they really need to work out all their problems.

**Handara: **Michael in flipflops would be hilarious, but I don't think I'll ever be able to do it. I love Adam so much, and I'm really excited about writing more for Simon's character. Yeah, Sam got the short end of the stick and Gabriel will always be Gabriel. Thank you so much for the reviews!

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**Chapter Nineteen  
****Them's The Rules**

* * *

**EMMA**

"Wassit?"

"Was that a question?" Emma spit out the piece of pillow she was munching on, gross, and groggily looked over at her bed partner. Michael's dark eyes were a little hazy, so maybe he actually recharged last night instead of just looking up at the ceiling.

"What time is it?" The words were clearer this time, and Michael didn't even look at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him.

"Seven thirty-two."

"That's perfect. I'll get dressed, and we can head out. I think I need an egg sandwich for breakfast, and I'm pretty sure there's a diner on the way to the campground. Got any breakfast preferences?" Emma was already out of the bed and rummaging through her bag, ready to face the day. Well, she'll be ready after she eats something.

"I don't need to eat." It's the same thing he says every time she asks him what he wants.

"Yeah, I get that, I do. Do you like eating though? Because Gabriel never seems to stop, Cas has a beef obsession, and even Balthazar can't help indulging," Emma listed off. She'd found a pair of tight dark jeans, which would be good if she needed to run. Now all she needed was a black shirt, to help her become one with the night. Werewolves have a good sense of sight, but there's no point in making things even easier for them.

"Eating can be…interesting." That could mean anything, but Emma's not gonna push him.

"You still like chocolate though, right?" She looked over her shoulder to see Michael sitting cross-legged on the perfectly made bed, and he smiled at her. That's all the answer she needs. "We'll leave in a few minutes. If we're going to a diner, you'll need shoes."

Emma changed in the bathroom and frowned down at the heavy boots. She's more than likely going to be on a roof tonight, and flipflops are not the best footwear for balancing on top of houses. So boots it is. She tucked some weapons into the heavy footwear and made sure her gun was loaded with silver bullets. The extra clip went into her bra, and she twisted her hair up into a tight ball. The last thing she needs is to be in the middle of lining up a shot and her hair getting in the way. Hmm, she should grab her rifle too. Michael was still sitting on the bed when she came out, but he was wearing boots similar to hers now.

"I don't like shoes." He wasn't pouting with his mouth, but his eyes looked pouty. It doesn't make sense, but it's the only way she can describe that expression.

"Me neither, but they're a necessary evil. Ready?" He nodded and stood up, and Emma led the way to the van. They were quiet as they drove, all the way up until they reached the diner Emma noticed on one of her many maps. The diner wasn't packed but it wasn't empty either, and Emma snagged a booth.

"Welcome to Macy's. What would you like to drink?" Emma smiled up at the older waitress and had to wrestle down a giggle when Michael mirrored her expression. Man, he really should not be using her as a how-to-human guide.

"I'd like a cup of coffee and some chocolate milk for him." The waitress quirked a brow but didn't comment, and Emma kept her smile in place until the waitress walked off. She glanced at Michael, noted the way his eyes moved over the whole diner, and then looked down at her menu. When the waitress returned a few minutes later, Emma already knew what to order.

"What'll it be, dears?"

"I'd like the bacon and egg sandwich, on Texas toast, with a side of sausage. He'll have the chocolate pancakes." Michael's head tilted as she ordered for him, and the waitress paused her writing long enough to glance at him. Chocolate milk and chocolate pancakes? Oh yeah. The archangel was gonna have the best breakfast ever.

"Coming right up."

"You ordered for me," Michael said once the waitress was gone.

"Yup. If you're gonna be walking the Earth and fighting for humanity, then you should enjoy some of the perks. Like chocolate pancakes." He nodded, all sharp and serious like, and went back to looking around. "What are you looking at anyway?"

"People," was the simple answer.

"Anything interesting going on?" Emma stirred the little bit of creamer into her coffee and then dumped in enough to sugar to rival Gabriel's sweet tooth. What? She likes her sugar with a little coffee flavor.

"That lady is stealing money from her job to pay for her daughter's medical bills." Thankfully Michael's voice was a low whisper, and Emma turned her head as nonchalantly as possible to see where he was looking. The woman, who was apparently embezzling, looked completely normal. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a beautiful French braid, and she was reading the paper as she absently sipped at her cup of coffee. A little girl was sitting across from her, with the same blonde hair, and happily munching on some scrambled eggs. The little girl looked healthy, but looks can be deceiving.

"What's wrong with her?"

"An accident caused her to become blind a little over a year ago. The doctors have been trying experimental treatments with no success." The little girl was blind? "Her mother tried getting a second job but was unable, so she's doing what she has to. She feels guilt but no regret. What does that mean?"

"It means, uh, exactly what it sounds like. She looks like a nice woman, so I'm sure she hates having to steal. Her little girl needs help though, so she'll do whatever she has to for her daughter." A mother's love was like that. "Anything else?"

"The man at the bar is in love with our waitress, Doris, but believes that she still grieves for her deceased husband. He's content just being her friend. Why would he be content with being less?" Wow, today really was going to be educational. Alright, she can do this. She can totally do this.

"He loves her, so he's going to be happy as long as she's happy. Even if he's just her friend, he's still in her life. Sometimes that's enough for people. Does she love him?" This was better than her favorite soaps.

"She does, but she's afraid that he doesn't feel the same and doesn't want to lose his friendship. She just wants to be in his life." Emma could see Michael's angelic brain churning behind his dark eyes, but she couldn't read the look on his face. He's been around since the dawn of time, but something as little as human love confuses him. It's a little cute and a lotta sad.

"Here you are, kids." Their waitress, Doris, gently set their plates down before scurrying off. Emma was debating between picking up her sandwich first or devouring her sausage when Doris returned to top off her coffee and place a small vase in the center of the table. A small bouquet of daises popped out of the light blue vase, and Emma looked up just long enough to see Doris wink at her before walking off.

"Is giving flowers customary at diners?" Michael was drowning his chocolate pancakes in syrup and just looking at his breakfast was enough to make her teeth hurt.

"Not really, but I think she thinks that we're a couple. It's supposed to be romantic." Sausage first. She speared a link with her fork and ate half of it in one bite. Michael gently touched a petal with a fingertip, smiled in a way that made Emma want to melt and sing at the same time, and then dug into his food. For someone who claimed to not need food, he really went after those pancakes. Doris returned to refill his chocolate milk when he was only halfway through his stack, and he smiled at the woman with stuffed cheeks.

"The flowers are a nice gesture," he said once he finally slowed down. He only had a few bites left, and Emma was only halfway through her egg and bacon sandwich.

"They are, but I like pink daisies more. Don't get me wrong, the white ones are pretty, but I'm a pink person. Do you know what daisies stand for?" Michael's mouth was full of pancakes again, so he just shook his head. "Childhood innocence."

"Do all flowers have meanings?" Michael could probably tell her the scientific name for every type of flower ever and maybe even detail how they changed over time, but this was something small that she could teach him. It was kinda humbling and made her feel all gooey inside. Like if melted butter and Jell-O had a baby.

"I'm not sure if all of them do, but my mom was really into flowers. We had this really big garden in the backyard, and I'd just sit and listen to her talk about them sometimes. She told me the meanings of some of the flowers, but I only remember the really common ones." Michael hummed a bit at that, and Emma took a big bite out of her sandwich. She doesn't really think about the garden too much, but those memories don't hurt anymore. They're happy memories of warm sunshine, sweet smells, and her mom's gentle voice.

"Childhood innocence," Michael murmured as he touched another petal. His plate was completely clean, without a drop of syrup on it, and he'd finished off his chocolate milk. Emma watched as he gently removed the white daisies, and she kept quiet as he started twisting the small stems together. After a minute, her delicious breakfast sandwich was completely forgotten as she watched the way his careful fingers braided the flowers together. When he was done, he was holding a small daisy bracelet in the palm of his hand. Emma wasn't sure if she was even breathing as he slid out of the booth, but she was still aware enough to twist around in her own seat to see what the archangel was up to.

Michael walked to the booth where the blonde woman was sitting, and she watched his lips move as he spoke quietly to the woman. Her narrowed eyes softened as he talked, and the woman reached across the table to take her daughter's hand. She said something, and Emma caught the big smile on the little girl's face as she turned sideways in her seat. Michael moved in front of the bench seat and slowly knelt down, and the little girl's hand hovered in the air. He gently took her hand and pressed her fingers against the flowers still resting on his palm, and the little girl spent the next minute just feeling the soft petals. Then Michael's fingers held her arm still as he slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, and Emma thought the girl's mother was going to cry as Michael walked away. Hell, even Emma felt like crying just from watching the sweet gesture.

"Are we ready to go?" Michael asked once he reached her. She stuffed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth as she nodded, and she shuffled her way over to the long counter. Doris met her at the small register, and Emma smiled as she dug her wallet out of her back pocket.

"That's a fine young man you got there," Doris whispered and flicked her eyes over to the little girl. She was still running her fingers over the daisy bracelet. Michael was standing next to the man a few stools down, the one that was in love with Doris, and he had a hand braced on the man's shoulder as he spoke quietly.

"Yeah, he's something else," Emma mumbled as she took the card back from the waitress. She was slipping her wallet back into her pocket when Michael joined her, and she managed to keep quiet until they were walking in the parking lot. "So, what'd you say to the old timer?"

"I asked about his morning and gave him a little courage," the archangel said with a small smile. A little courage, huh?

"Well, I hope him and Doris are happy together. And the little girl?" Michael's smile widened, and they were almost to the van now.

"She really likes the bracelet, and I've guaranteed that her next surgery will be a success." The words hit Emma like a frying pan to the face (which happened once in a haunted restaurant), and she staggered a bit as she jerked to a stop. Michael turned towards her, and she surged forward before he could say anything. Her arms wrapped tight around his middle and her cheek was smushed against his chest, and she had to count to twenty before her breathing would even out. Michael's arms were crossed over her shoulders, and he felt a little stiff.

"It's called a hug," she mumbled into his tee shirt.

"I know what a hug is."

"Do you know why I'm hugging you?"

"No." He sounded annoyed, at himself and not at her, which was a good thing. She had a feeling that having an archangel annoyed with her would not end happily.

"Because what you did was amazing, and it makes me happy. So, happy equals hugging." She pulled away and took a step back, and Michael rested his hands on her shoulders.

"We're not supposed to interfere." He looked confused as he looked down at her, and Emma held still as he searched her eyes like she had all the answers.

"Then that makes what you did all the more special, don't you think?" Really, really hazel. So many pretty colors.

"Yes, I think so. We should go to the campgrounds now and prepare for tonight." The hands fell from her shoulders, and Emma gave him one last reassuring smile before walking around the van to get to the driver's side.

"You got it, boss."

**SAM**

When Sam walked out of the hotel bathroom, fully dressed, Gabriel was pacing the room and steadily working on a two foot long Twizzler. Apparently none of the motels in New Haven, Nebraska were good enough for the archangel because he'd popped them into a very nice hotel. Sam wasn't going to complain, this time, because the shower had been huge and the water pressure had been amazing. Not as good as his own shower at home but still miles better than the usual motel showers he was used to when he was hunting. Gabriel stopped pacing when he noticed Sam and smiled, but there was something off about it. He was…nervous about something. Oh, that can't be good. What's he done now?

"What'd you do?" Best to go ahead and get it over with.

"I got us an in to the apartment building." Right, really angry spirit haunting an entire apartment building. Having an in is a good thing, but Sam hasn't even started researching yet. He doesn't know if there's been any violent deaths in any of the apartments, or if there was anything there before the apartment building.

"Okay. What's our in?"

"We're looking for our first apartment?" Sam nodded absently as he looked through his bag, until the words really hit him.

"_Our_ first apartment?"

"I panicked!" Gabriel doesn't do panic, as stated by Gabriel on more than one occasion. Sam's going to kill him before this Apocalypse is over, he can just feel it. He swept a hand across his face, through his hair, and then looked back at the archangel.

"What time are we meeting…?"

"Mrs. Hutchins, at ten."

"Then let's go get some food and try to get there a little early so we can have a look around." Sam made sure to grab his laptop before they left the room, and he spent the short drive through town completely ignoring his _partner_. Not that it seemed to bother Gabriel, because he kept up a running conversation all on his own. They found a nice diner to eat breakfast at, and Sam immediately went to one of the taller tables so his legs would have plenty of room and definitely didn't smile at the glare Gabriel sent him as he hopped up into his own seat. Served him right for talking _nonstop_. Sam takes it all back. He prefers the cuddling to the times when Gabriel's awake.

Sam kept quiet as Gabriel flirted with their waitress and managed to score a free slice of chocolate cake, for breakfast. Once she was gone, Gabriel rattled on about how Sam really needed to start eating more than just egg whites and toast, but Sam mostly just tuned him out. He was doing a search on the apartment building to see what was going on, and Gabriel eventually took the hint. So he just switched to telling Sam about the time he trapped a group of murderers in a haunted hotel, _Shining _style, and let them go at each other. He blocked most of that out too to keep from losing his appetite. Dealing with nasty stuff isn't a problem, not with the family business, but he can't handle Gabriel's overly gleeful face as he talks about kidney beans. ("Get it, Sam? _Kidney_ beans!")

"Here you go. If you need anything else, just let me know." It was said with a lingering look at Gabriel, and Sam had to lock his muscles in place to keep from jumping when the archangel suddenly reached across the table to lace their fingers together.

"Sure thing, doll," Gabriel winked. Sam looked over at the waitress's wide eyes and thought about apologizing, but she ran off before he got the chance.

"That was really mean," he pointed out as he scooped up a forkful of eggs.

"You saw the way she was looking at me. I thought she was gonna eat me or something," Gabriel said with a delicate little shiver. He should have been an actor.

"Sounds like something you'd be into," Sam mumbled as his eyes scanned another article. It'd taken him a few minutes, but he'd managed to get a look at the police records surrounding the building.

"No kinks without consent. Them's the rules." Gabriel's fingers were still laced with his, and Sam slowly pulled his hand away to pick up his glass of orange juice. Sam is not going to talk about kinks over breakfast. Instead he's going to look at really gruesome crime scene photos and munch on his toast loud enough to drown out the sound of Gabriel's voice. Sam reread the small paragraph and looked up to catch Gabriel's eyes. The archangel stopped talking, finally, and just looked back at him.

"Okay, so get this. Twenty years ago—why are you smiling?" Gabriel's serious face disappeared under a bright smile, but it wasn't a smile that Sam could catalogue. It wasn't gleeful over something deadly, it wasn't happy over something chocolaty, it wasn't nervous, it wasn't reassuring or placating. (And why does Sam know the small nuances that goes with each of those smiles? When did he start paying that much attention? This is all Emma's fault, and her stupid poetry.)

"No reason. Keep going," Gabriel said with a wave of his hand. Sam watched the way his fingers wiggled in the air before looking back at his laptop screen.

"Twenty years ago, when the building was a bed and breakfast, the caretaker was killed when someone tried to break in. The man worked there his entire life and was loved by all, but they never caught the guy who shot him. About a year after his death, the owner passed away and it was turned into apartments."

"You think the caretaker is haunting the place?"

"Violent death and that place was his life, so I'm thinking he didn't move on." Sam closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair, and he looked across the table at the sugared up archangel.

"Where's he buried?"

"In the garden behind the apartments."

"How much you wanna bet they don't mention that during the interview?" Now, there was Gabriel's gleeful smile.

"Here's your check." Their waitress placed the slip of paper on the table, and Sam reached for his wallet.

"Don't worry about it, sweetums, I got it." The girl's eyes popped wide and Sam froze. Did Gabriel just…he did not…sweetums? The archangel pulled a twenty from his pocket and handed it to their now blushing waitress. "Keep the change."

"_Gabriel!_" Sam hissed as he moved to follow after the archangel. He was almost to the door now, and Sam heard some guy yelling behind them about how he wasn't trying to skip out on the bill. "Did you steal that man's money?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Sambo." Gabriel winked at him over his shoulder, and Sam didn't manage to catch up to him until they were at the truck. For someone so short, Gabriel was really fast.

"Did you steal twenty bucks? I could've paid for the food." Sam unlocked the truck and got in, and he looked over at his passenger as he started the ignition.

"He's cheating on his wife with his best friend's daughter. What I did was nothing compared to what I want to do," Gabriel huffed. He looked really upset at not being able to torture the guy, and Sam quickly pulled out of the parking lot. Not that he could really stop Gabriel if he wanted to go back, but he liked at least having the illusion of control.

"No killing humans, okay? It'll, uh, mess up the partnership." Gabriel's building scowl vanished as he twisted around in the seat so that he was sitting sideways, and he nudged his toes against Sam's thigh.

"Knew you'd warm up to me eventually."

"Don't get your hopes up," Sam said and definitely didn't push his leg into Gabriel's wiggling toes. Nope. His leg just slipped a little. That's all.

They reached the apartment building around nine-thirty, and Sam looked up at the nice looking building. It was brick but looked homey, and he could see how it would've made a nice bed and breakfast. He parked across the street in front of a chain of small stores, and his knees popped as he stepped out of the truck. They didn't really need to see the inside since Sam already knows where the ghost is buried, but it can't hurt. The tricky part is going to be getting to the garden in the backyard, but he might be able to get Gabriel to help with that part.

"Let's go in here! We can kill some time and pump the locals for info!" Gabriel hurried off before Sam could say anything, and he was once again stuck hurrying after the archangel. He was led into an arts and crafts store, and Gabriel disappeared into the fabrics section. Sam wasn't really sure what to think about that, so he just put it in the back of his mind. He could only see one worker, an older lady, and she was talking to a customer at the register. Sam decided to browse until she was finished and took a look around.

He was drawn to a shelf filled with books, and his fingers tapped against the spines. Journals. Small ones and big ones, some with hardcovers and some made with leather, and all different colors and designs. He keeps a journal, like most hunters, but his newest one isn't even half full. He's not thinking about his journal though. He's thinking about one that's cream colored and held together with lime green shoestrings. It's filled with seven years' worth of hunts and perfect desserts, and it's almost hard to close it. He's seen Emma holding it and sometimes thumbing through the pages, but he hasn't seen her write in it since she came back topside. It could be just because it's too full, or maybe it's just not the same. That journal is from before Hell, so maybe she just needs a new one. So that it's like she's starting over.

By the time the other customer left a few minutes later, Sam had picked out a new journal for the small hunter. It was pretty thick and filled with creamy white pages lined in dark pink. The outside covers were cushioned by a dark pink quilt material, small flowers decorated the soft fabric, and it was all tied together with a silky black ribbon. On a whim, he picked up a glittery pink pen with a small feather hanging from the end to go with it. He could see Emma getting a kick out of it and still writing with it, and the hunter could use a few more reasons to smile. The lady at the counter smiled at him when he set it down, and he felt a little heat rising into his cheeks.

"For my sister," he clarified.

"Does she journal a lot?" she asked as she rang him up.

"About everything, including her favorite desserts." The woman's smile gentled as she looked at him, and her purple nails drummed against the counter top.

"Would you like me to gift wrap it? I just got in some cupcake wrapper that I'm sure your sister would love." Sam smiled wide enough to show his dimples and took in the way the woman eyed them, and he leaned forward to rest an elbow on the counter.

"I'd really appreciate it. I'm not that good at wrapping, and it's for her birthday." He ducked his head shyly to let his hair hide his eyes, and a warm hand softly patted his forearm and gave it a small squeeze. Sam learned early on that pulling that look normally caused one of two reactions, and the nice owner had that mothering look in her eyes. It was better than the alternative, especially if he wanted to stick with his and Gabriel's cover story.

"Don't you worry, honey, I'll take care of it." She rummaged around under the counter and stood back up with a tube of blue wrapping paper with smiling cupcakes on it, and Sam leaned back enough for her to work. "So, what brings you to our little town?"

"My partner and I are looking for a place to settle down. We have an appointment with the landlord from the apartments across the street, but we got here too early." He shrugged with a sheepish smile, to make it seem like they were over eager and excited about looking for a place to move to, and the older woman beamed at him.

"Oh, you'll just love it here! It's a very quiet town, good neighbors, but still plenty to do. Charles, my husband, likes taking me to the little theater downtown for date night. The kids from the college like to put on shows." She tucked the pen into the ribbon binding on the journal, and her fingers were steady as she moved to wrap the journal up.

"I haven't seen a play in ages, but we, uh, never mind." She paused from smoothing down a wrinkle to look at him. Sam did his best to look concerned and nervous, and she reached forward to grab his forearm again.

"What is it, honey?"

"It's just, our waitress at the diner we had breakfast at, mentioned something about," he paused to look around the store to check if it was empty (except for Gabriel) before leaning forward to whisper, "She said something about some murders in the neighborhood."

"Oh, I bet it was that Cheryl! Woman is always looking for some gossip to spread. Well, don't you two worry about that. Those boys that died had it coming to them." She looked almost shocked that she'd said that, but her eyes showed that she believed what she'd said.

"What did they do?" She went back to wrapping and started talking once she wasn't looking at him.

"Well, no one's really sure how they died, but Jules, her husband was one of the first officers on the scene, said that those boys had been stealing from everyone! Found all kinds of jewelry and knickknacks hidden in their closets."

"I thought a lady had, you know, passed away."

"Oh, you mean Gloria? She was eighty-seven, honey. It was just her time." The woman finished wrapping with a flourish, and Sam looked down at the big white bow on the front of the wrapper. Cute.

"My sister and I thank you," Sam said with a bright smile. According to the police report, Gloria died of a heart attack. That alone wasn't suspicious, but everything she owned being broken was.

"It was my pleasure. Will that be all for you?" Sam was just getting ready to answer when an elbow pushed against his ribs, and Gabriel's hip bumped against him to move him out of the way. Giant rolls of silky fabric were dropped onto the counter, and Gabriel grinned up at him in a way that was truly frightening.

"We'll take this too," Gabriel said and turned his smile on the nice woman. The smile must not have scared her, because she smiled back and ran her fingers over the fabric. The first roll was a dark blue, navy, and the second one was bright red.

"Oh, lovely choices. Would you like me to cut you a length?"

"Nope. I'll take 'em both." The woman kept smiling as she rung up all the silk, and Sam had a feeling it was because she was about to make a lot of money. Why does Gabriel need that much silk? And why is he carrying it out of the store and leaving Sam with the bill?

"Your partner sure does know his fabric."

"Yeah, he does," he said as he handed over one of his many credit cards. She handed it back to him along with a bag holding his wrapped present, and Sam took them both with a smile.

"What's he going to do with all of it?" she asked once his wallet was back in his pocket and he was turning to leave. Sam stopped for a moment, tried to think of an answer, and just shrugged.

"I have no idea."

* * *

**Finis: **I was in a really fluffy mood when I wrote a chunk of these chapters. Like I said though, it won't always be this nice. These chapters are mostly build-up. Giving Emma and Michael (Sam and Gabriel) time to get used to one another, build up trust and general likability, and so on.

The next chapter is a bit more serious. There's a little action and just…seriousness.


	20. Chapter 20

**TIB: **There's a little death in this chapter, but I feel like that's nothing compared to some of the other things I've written. So, no warnings.

**Lexi: **Thank you for the review! Yeah, I wanted to find a way to show that Michael is being affected by humans, and little kids are always cute. Also, my grandpa could make really awesome daisy bracelets so I threw that in there.

**Handara: **I'm sorry you had to read it in parts! But reading in school is like that sometimes. All the angels are creeps, in my opinion, but some of them are nice creeps. Why does Gabriel need so much silk? Like Sam, no one will know for a very long time. Don't forget the silk though! It will, eventually, show up again. Oh, Sam likes Gabriel, he's just in really deep denial. This chapter helps with that a bit. Thank you for the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty  
****Sad Equals Holding**

* * *

**EMMA**

It's cold. That's not a big deal, because it's somewhere around the ass end of February (or is it March?), but she doesn't like the cold. She tugged on a black thermal to go on over her tee shirt and the boots keep her toes warm, but her nose feels like it's going to fall off at any second. She's wearing skintight gloves to keep her fingers from shaking, because there's not much worse than a shivering trigger finger. Eh, at least the sky is clear so that the full moon can give her a little light. It's been dark for a couple of hours now, but it's still so quiet. She spent nearly an hour before the sun went down just walking around the perimeter and sprinkling out some blood. Fresh blood too.

"Should I check the other cabins?" The archangel was so still and silent that she'd nearly forgotten he was there. She slowly turned her head and was just able to make out the dark color of his eyes.

"Yeah, probably should. I just hope they didn't find a new hunting ground," Emma whispered back. Michael nodded and disappeared, and Emma rolled her shoulders as she got back into position. She wasn't on top of the house like she'd planned. She couldn't see good enough, and she didn't need a werewolf sneaking up on her. Luckily, she was able to find a tree with enough cover and a better range of sight.

Time stretched out as she waited for her angelic partner to return, and her muscles locked up when she heard sticks breaking. That wasn't Michael. The archangel was all about the stealth, but the werewolves wouldn't be that loud. Would they? Shadows moved out of the trees across from where she was, and she raised a pair of binoculars up. Holy fuckaroo, five werewolves? She thought two, possibly three, from all the damage. Not five. To make it worse, they looked like kids. The oldest one couldn't have been a day over sixteen, and the youngest one looked about thirteen. All five had glowing eyes, and three of them had dropped fangs. This is the worst part of her job. They're kids, and she's gotta kill them. There's no cure for a werewolf bite. She's heard of werewolves controlling their urges, but never after tasting a human heart. If she doesn't kill them, they'll just kill someone else. Maybe another family.

"_I'm sorry."_

The rifle, with its scope, was the best decision. The silencer helped too. The first two were on the ground before the other three realized what was happening, and it only took a few more seconds to put them down. Not even a full minute had passed, and five teenagers were dead. Just like that. Emma took slow breaths as she shimmied out of the tree, and she kept her footsteps light as she walked around the side of the house. She had to make sure they were all dead; she didn't have any room for mistakes. It was already bad enough that she was gonna have to call the cops, and five families were gonna have to get the news that their babies were dead. She was checking over the last body when there was movement to her right.

"No!" She'd swung around and had the rifle up before the kid staggered to a stop, and Emma took in his bright eyes. Fangs were denting his bottom lip, and his claws were dragging against the rough material of his jeans.

"Sorry, kid," she whispered. Her finger was already on the trigger, and the kid's wide eyes kept looking at her even as he hit his knees.

"We didn't want to. The guy that did this, he promised to take care of us, then he left. We didn't know what to do. We didn't want to hurt anyone." His words were choppy from the fangs, and Emma was surprised at his control. Maybe, this one could be saved.

"Maybe we can get you help. It doesn't have to be like this." There's no cure for a werewolf bite. The kid shook his head, floppy brown hair brushed across his brows, and he was shaking all over.

"I wanna kill you. Last month, I killed a kid. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." Emma could see the happy smiling faces of the Martin family (the youngest was only four). She raised the rifle back up, looked right into the kid's glowing eyes, and pulled the trigger. The bright glow dimmed as the kid fell back, and Emma could have sworn that he smiled a bit as she shot him. The kid only looked fourteen, maybe even younger.

"Emma?"

"We're done here." She'd left the van parked a little bit away in some trees, and Michael was quiet as he walked beside her. Once they reached the van, she pulled one of her many cell phones out of the glove box and put a call in to the police. Told them she'd heard gunfire, where, and hung up. She threw the phone at a nearby tree and watched it fall apart, and she kept the food in her stomach down by sheer force of will.

It took an hour and a half of driving for the shakes to kick in, and she found a small dirt road to pull over at. With a bit of wiggling, she moved into the back of the van and started stripping down. Ripped the thermal over her head, kicked her boots off, and shimmied out of her jeans. She found a pair of soft pajama pants in her bag and yanked them on, and she curled up under her fluffy blanket on her old mattress. She was curled into such a tight ball that her forehead was almost touching her knees (might've actually touched if her boobs weren't in the way), and her eyes were clenched so tight that she was starting to get a headache. The mattress dipped down behind her the tiniest bit, but she kept herself completely still as Michael laid behind her. He didn't touch her; he was just a warm presence at her back.

"They were just kids," she whispered. She forced her eyes open and just looked at the wall of the van.

"They would have hurt someone else. You did what had to be done."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she mumbled. She was doing her best not to cry. She'd cried once in front of another hunter, after the two of them took out a vamp nest that had a taste for little kids, and he'd said something about how women should stay out of hunting. Said they were too emotional for the job. So she'd punched him in the throat and told herself she wouldn't cry over a hunt in front of anyone. If she had to cry, she'd do it alone. "Can you go check on the others or something for a little bit?"

"Emma." It was the only thing he said, and she kept herself still as she waited for the sound of feathers. When it never came, she stiffly pushed out of her ball and shuffled around until she was on her back. Michael was just looking at her, but it was too dark in the van for her to get a read on his eyes.

"Just for a little bit?" A fingertip brushed across her cheek, but she wasn't crying. Not yet at least.

"Do you want me to leave so that you can cry or so that you can be alone?"

"Are you reading my thoughts? Because that's a breach of privacy and can only be used in times of emergency." Her voice was thick with the tears that she just wanted to get out already, but Michael was still staring at her. Can't she be a total girl and have her after-hunt sob fest without all the scrutiny?

"I don't have to read your thoughts to know your emotions." That was…what? "You have some of my grace, Emma. I'll always know."

"You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"If it involves another person and personal things about them, like their emotions, that's important. Now, will you please just fly away so I can cry in peace?" There, she said it. He already knows she wants to cry anyway, but he doesn't have to witness it.

"No."

"What? Why?" She's not whining. She's just really upset, and he won't go away. Why can't he just go away?

"What you did wasn't easy, but you didn't let it stop you. You were strong, Emma." And that's where the great archangel is wrong. Pulling the trigger is always easy. Just a tiny little squeeze and it's all over. It's not strength. It's cowardice. "I can be strong for you, Emma."

"Or you can fly your ass away for half an hour." She likes Michael, she does. The dude did pull her out of Hell and didn't throw her back in once he got his brother out, and he cured a little girl's blindness because he's an alright guy. But right now, he's starting to get on her nerves.

"There's no shame in crying, Emma." He needs to stop saying her name so much too.

"I know that," she snapped. Aw, hell, she's crying. Thick tears are tickling the corners of her eyes and dripping into her hairline since she's laying on her back and staring at the top of the van, and all she can think about right now is the look in the last kid's eyes as she pulled the trigger. Like she was doing him a favor.

"Happy equals hugging. What does sad equal?" Her laugh was watery and pushed more tears out, and she turned her head to look at Michael. Still lying on his side and just watching her. A tear rolled over the bridge of her nose and dropped off somewhere in her hair.

"Holding. Sad equals holding." Michael lifted an arm and held it up, and Emma shuffled forward until her forehead was pressed against the curve of his collarbone. The arm wrapped tight across her back, and Emma's cocooned body curled up against Michael's as she finally started crying in earnest. Wet sobs, runny nose, pathetic sounding little whimpers. She's always been an ugly crier.

"Thank you," Michael whispered into her hair. Emma was still crying into his tee shirt, but she didn't lift her head.

"For what?" At least she's not sobbing anymore.

"For letting me do this for you." Only he would thank her for ruining his only tee shirt with her tears and snot. Maybe she should take him shopping as a thank you of her own.

"You're welcome."

**SAM**

"You could help," Sam grunted out as he tossed another shovelful of dirt to the side.

"And give up this spectacular view? No can do, Sambo." Gabriel was perched on a mound of fluffy pillows, which was made up of all the colors of the rainbow, and was sitting cross-legged as he watched Sam work.

"You could see it up close." Sam made sure that his stretch lifted his shirt just enough to expose a strip of skin, because he's desperate. He'll even take his shirt completely off if Gabriel will just snap all the dirt away.

"Tricky, I like it, but I'm concentrating here. Don't want any of the neighbors to see us digging up the garden, do we?" Gabriel's eyebrows did this wiggling thing that made Sam want to hit him, with the shovel, and he huffed as he went back to moving dirt.

If he'd been able to get any sleep today, he wouldn't be this tired. This is all Gabriel's fault. He's the one that arranged a meeting with the landlord so they could look at an apartment together, and he's the one that agreed to the barbecue invite. They spent the entire afternoon and most of the night talking to their new neighbors, that they'll never see again, and getting grilled. Well, maybe not grilled. Normal, welcome to the neighbor, getting to know you, conversations. Sam let Gabriel do most of the talking, which might have been a mistake. The neighbors loved Gabriel, but Sam spent most of the time thinking of ways to kill him. Apparently, Sam is a doctor (ha!) and Gabriel is a baker (which he can actually believe). They met six years ago when Gabriel got food poisoning (not from his own cooking, of course!) and Sam made him all better (and the neighbors actually cooed at them).

By the time everyone moved back to their own apartment, Sam had a permanent blush on his face and Gabriel's gleeful smile had reached new heights. It was nearly ten by the time they got back to the hotel, and Sam attempted to take a nap before going back to the apartments. Just one problem. Gabriel's mouth that never shut up. He talked about their neighbors and relayed all the gossip to Sam, who didn't care about who was sleeping with who because they'd be gone in a few hours anyway. Sam finally gave up any pretense of napping at midnight, grabbed a shovel, and talked Gabriel into shielding what he was doing from anyone that looked into the backyard. There was one good thing about the barbecue. Sam knew right where Joe Lobawski's memorial, and grave, was.

"I hate dirt," Sam mumbled as he shook a clump out of his hair. He'd finally reached the bottom though, so there's that. He pried the lid of the coffin off and reached into his pocket for the salt.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Busy!" Once the bones were salted enough, he tucked the bottle back into his jacket and started looking for his lighter fluid.

"It's important, Sam."

"Not right now, Gabriel!" Oh, right, he put the lighter fluid in his pants pocket. He was pulling it out when something grabbed at his shoulders and lifted him up, and he was flung out of the grave. Sam swung the shovel he was still holding, and the face of the old caretaker shimmied away. "What the hell?!"

"I tried to tell you," Gabriel shrugged. It wouldn't be long before the ghost came back, and Sam quickly tugged the lighter fluid out of his pocket. He was lighting a match when a cold hand reached into his back to get at his heart, and he heard an inhuman screech when the bones caught fire. Breathing hard with a tight pain in his chest, Sam turned to stare at his _partner._

"You couldn't stop him?" he asked. The bones were still crackling and smoking, and Gabriel just stared at him from his rainbow colored mound of pillows.

"I didn't think the great Sam Winchester would need help with a simple salt and burn. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of hunting god?"

"Just a man. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of fierce archangel?"

"Just a trickster." Gabriel snapped his fingers and the memorial looked like it'd never been touched. Now, why couldn't he have done that an hour ago? Right, because he's working with a sadistic _trickster_.

Thirty minutes later, Sam was freshly showered and laying on the hotel bed while Gabriel paced the room. The archangel was munching on a pint of ice cream, something with fudge and chocolate chips, but at least he was quiet. It was almost two in the morning, so there was no point in calling Bobby to see where they needed to head out to next. No point in calling Dean or Emma either. They could be in the middle of a hunt or resting, and he didn't want to interrupt either of those. He knew Emma was going after some werewolves, so hopefully she was done by now. Dean was hunting demons, but Cas was with him. Cas wouldn't let anything happen to his brother.

"Are you recharging tonight?" He wanted to turn the lights off and burrow under his blanket, but Gabriel was still moving around.

"Going through cuddle withdrawals?" He's not going to dignify that with a response.

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"I'm not stopping you."

"Your pacing is, and I need to turn the lights off. What are you doing anyway?" Gabriel pacing, silently, for ten minutes was not the norm. It was a little worrying actually.

"I'm talking to Michael."

"Is Emma okay?" Sam was sitting up now, and Gabriel came to a stop just as he pulled the spoon from his mouth again. Golden eyes flicked over to him, and it looked like Gabriel was trying to smile. His cheeks were stuffed with chocolate ice cream though.

"Of course she is. I'd know if there was anything wrong with her." At Sam's questioning look, he continued, "It's a grace thing. No, big brother is having a human crisis."

"A human crisis? Am I supposed to know what that means?" Gabriel shuffled over and popped himself up onto the bed, and Sam laid back down before looking over at him.

"It's been a long time since Michael has rubbed elbows with humans and back then he didn't even like humans all that much. Do you know what happens to angels when they get too close to humans?"

"They kill them?" Sam asked with an innocent smile. It was Gabriel's turn to glare, which was a nice turn of events. Sam's tired of being the one that always glares.

"They become a little human. Emotions and everything. It's unsettling for most." Gabriel spooned out some more ice cream and held it out, and Sam must really be out of it because he leaned forward and pulled the chocolate into his mouth. And it was a lot of chocolate. Gabriel smiled at him and then spooned out some ice cream for himself.

"I thought Cas said he didn't start to feel more human until he started falling."

"Well, duh, of course that's what the lower angels are told. That way when they start experiencing emotions and doing that whole free will thing, they panic and return to Heaven. Humans were made in His likeness, right? Well, we were too. We feel just as strongly as you muttonheads, but angels learned how to turn it off during the War. It's easier to kill your family when you can't feel and have no other choice." Gabriel's eyes were dark, like when he thought about Hell, as he absently held the spoon out. Sam took another bite and thought over the words as the chocolate melted on his tongue.

"So, Michael's not used to having emotions," Sam clarified.

"Outside of anger and vengeance, along with a righteous sense of justice, nope. And since I've been down here for two thousand years, he thinks I'm some kind of expert," Gabriel said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"You're not?"

"Oh, I am. I know every kind of human emotion there is, and I've spent centuries getting up close and personal with all the bad ones."

"And the good ones. You love Kali, right?" Sam can still easily remember that night, the way that Gabriel had pulled the goddess off the floor and told them to get her out of there.

"Something like that." It was said with an elaborate eyebrow wiggle, and it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"You died for her, or almost did. You don't do that for a fling." Gabriel's smirk deflated as he looked down at him, and Sam almost felt like fidgeting. He hates it when Gabriel gets that serious look in his eyes. Sam knows how to handle a teasing and annoying Gabriel.

"You think I stood up to my brother for Kali?"

"Why else would you?" Gabriel's laugh was a little shocked and a little mocking, and Sam felt his jaw tensing. Even Lucifer said that Gabriel was doing it over a girl; it was the last thing Sam heard before he and Dean pulled Kali out of there.

"Oh, kiddo, you have no idea. I am so going to regret this in the morning."

"Regret what? Gabriel—" A single finger tapped the center of his forehead, and the hotel disappeared. Sam didn't know if his eyes were open or closed; he couldn't even tell if he was still _Sam_. Because, for the moment, he was the archangel Gabriel.

_Lucifer is standing in front of him. He can see his brother's back and his brother's face, but most of his focus is on his face. His vessel is falling apart, but he can see past that crumbling skin. He can see the light that still shines so bright, even after centuries of being locked in the Cage. It pisses him off how Lucifer can still be brighter than him after being in that dark hole for so long. The Morningstar, just as bright as ever, even with all that blood staining his hands._

"_Gabriel, if you're doing this for Michael—"_

"_Screw him. If he were standing here, I'd shiv his ass too." And he would, because his big brothers are complete idiots. They're going to waste an entire planet over a little bit of sibling rivalry. Didn't they learn anything last time?_

"_You disloyal—"_

"_Oh, I'm loyal." Lucifer hates not being able to finish his grand statements, and Gabriel loves pissing him off. "To them."_

"_Who? These, so called, gods?" Hey, _he_ is one of those so called gods. These so called gods have been more of a family than the angels. None of them have commanded him to kill, kill, kill. He gets to decide, for himself, who dies. _

"_To people, Lucifer. People." Family, gods, whatever. If he's going to stand up to Lucifer, he's going to be honest about why. He can't remember the last time he was so honest about something. (No, he's not going to think about being surrounded by holy fire and saying his name for the first time in two thousand years. He's not.)_

"_So you're willing to die for a pile of cockroaches. Why?" Lucifer's face shows a mix of disgust and confusion. _

"_Because Dad was right." Lucifer looks at him like he doesn't even recognize him anymore. "They are better than us."_

"_They are broken, flawed, abortions." His brother looks so furious and disappointed. Gabriel has already shamed the archangels by going pagan, but now he's standing up for the humans. For the creations that Lucifer hated so much that he was willing to fall. _

"_Damn right they're flawed, but a lot of them try. To do better. To forgive. And you should see the Spearmint Rhino. I've been riding the pine a long time, but I'm in the game now. And I'm not on your side or Michael's. I'm on theirs." He tries not to, he really does, but he thinks about Sam Winchester as he says it. He sees the kid after the Mystery Spot incident. The boy with the demon blood, who should've been the most broken of them all, standing tall with tears in his eyes and begging for his brother back. That's the way brothers should be. Willing to do whatever it takes to keep the other safe, not willing to take out so many innocents just so they can kill each other. He was wrong. Sam is nothing like Lucifer. He is so much better._

"_Brother, don't make me do this." Lucifer has tears in his eyes, not unlike Sam, but for a completely different reason. Lucifer will kill him without hesitation, his own brother._

"_No one makes us do anything." Wasn't that the point? Wasn't that why Dad left? Because he'd given them a choice, to love his greatest creations, and Lucifer couldn't. It wasn't fair. Gabriel promised to love the humans, swore to love them all right to his Father's face, and then his Father left as they were killed in droves. _

"_I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel, but I know where your heart truly lies." _

_He can see himself behind Lucifer, raising his own blade, and he knows he's not going to be able to do it. He can't kill Lucifer, but Lucifer can kill him. _

"_Here." His own blade is cutting into his grace, and his big brother is holding his cheek like he used to do whenever Gabriel would say something that made him smile. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't deserve to die. Not like this. Not at his own brother's hand with his own blade. If he times it right, he can live. If he's lucky, he won't kill anyone while he tries to heal. _

"_Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother." The blade twists just a little deeper, and his grace burns so cold that all he can feel is the pain. He's screaming, his wings are tearing, and grace is leaking out. He doesn't have to save all his grace, just the smallest bit. He stays long enough to see his brother back away from his vessel and shed a single tear, one measly tear for his little brother, and then he's outta there._

The ceiling was mostly white, but the tiles had flecks of blue in them. The blanket was heavy over his chest and twisted around his legs, and he could still taste chocolate on his tongue. His head wasn't hurting, but there was a dull pressure just over his eyes. It took him a moment to separate what he'd just seen from his own memories, because it wasn't _his_ memory. It was Gabriel's. It wasn't anything like he'd expected. Not even close. His mind kept getting snagged on small phrases and thoughts, trying to make sense of it all. Because it didn't make sense, except for how it did.

"You thought about me." Of everything he just learned, like how Gabriel fought _for_ humans, and that's what he asks?

"Don't let it go to your head," Gabriel huffed.

"Why me?"

"Because you're an idiot."

"But you like me anyway." The words just fell out, and Sam looked over at Gabriel for the first time since he came back to himself. The ice cream was gone.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Get some sleep, Lurch." Gabriel snapped his fingers to turn off the lights, and Sam pulled the blanket up to his chin. The archangel was still just sitting there, and it was too dark for Sam to tell if he was looking at him or not. He kept quiet as a hand touched his head and slowly relaxed into the soft mattress as fingers gently combed through his hair.

"G'night, Gabriel."

* * *

**Finis: **I was obviously in a fluffy mood when I wrote this chapter, so that's why the hunting scenes are so short. (Also, I didn't want to go into gory detail about teenagers dying.) Gabriel's memory, that Sam got to see, is my interpretation of that scene but all of the dialogue comes straight from the show. I take absolutely no claim. As far as happy times go, there's this chapter and the next one. After that, it starts going downhill. For anyone who's curious, my musical inspiration for this chapter was _Hate It When You See Me Cry_ by Halestorm.


	21. Chapter 21

**TIB: **No warnings for this one, but it does almost border on crack. So there's that to look out for.

**Lexi: **Thank you for the review! Yeah, I made myself sad while writing that part, which is probably why Sam's part was so funny. Gotta have balance, right? I'm glad you loved the chapter!

**Handara: **I know! I didn't want to kill kids, but sometimes being a hunter is hard. My writing has been really fluffy too, so it was time to bring things back down. This chapter makes up for all the sadness. Imagining Michael freaking out about emotions is one of my favorite things, especially since he has to ask Gabriel for advice. Thank you for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One  
****Nectar Of The Gods**

* * *

**EMMA**

"My mouth tastes like ass," was how she decided to greet the day.

"What does ass taste like?" Emma pulled her face away from Michael's tee shirt to look up into his eyes, and she really tried to glare at the happy little smile on his face. His perfectness really gets on her nerves sometimes.

"It's one of those things you're gonna have to experience for yourself, sweetheart. Now, where'd my phone go?" Michael lifted her discarded pants up, and Emma took them with a smile so she could rummage through the pockets. Her wallet was still in the back pocket too, so she'll probably just slip these back on. No point in putting on another pair when she's probably just gonna be driving all day anyway. Besides, they're old and worn out which makes them oh so comfy.

"What do you want?" Emma jumped at the loud barking voice and resisted the urge to remind Bobby what manners are.

"Good morning to you too. Rough morning?" There was a long sigh over the phone, and Emma could just picture the older hunter running tired hands over his face. Bobby needs a vacation. Somewhere sunny with coconuts to drink out of.

"Slowin' down, finally. Take care of the werewolves?"

"Yeah. Six in all, but they're gone now. Where do you need me next?" She's got all of her tears out now, so she's good.

"That's the thing, it's gotten quiet."

"Blown over quiet or calm before the storm?"

"I wish I knew." Michael watched as she switched ears and chewed on her bottom lip, but the archangel kept quiet. Maybe he doesn't know either. That's not very comforting.

"So, what should we do?" It's a little weird asking for instructions. Normally when she finished a hunt, she scoured the news until she found the next one. Not anymore. Now she's got her own room and people who care about where she is.

"Just come on back home. We'll figure out what to do when everyone's back together."

"Alright, we're headed back that way. See you later, Bobby."

"Bye, Emma."

"So, can you go to the front now? I need to change pants." She's still wearing her tee shirt from yesterday (she actually slept in a bra) and all of her weapons are still firmly attached to her person. Michael fluidly stood up, like the graceful being that he is, and moved to the front of the van. Once he was facing forward, Emma stripped out of her pajama pants and yanked her old jeans on. She left her boots in the corner she kicked them into and slipped into her flipflops (she's not sure why because she's just going to kick them off to drive anyway).

"Do you want to drive back to Bobby's or would you like me to take us back?" She was in the driver's seat and just staring at her keys, so it's a good question.

"Well, I normally prefer driving, but I really just wanna go home." Because she has a home to go to. How awesome is that? Michael doesn't snap like Gabriel does. His eyes close for the briefest of seconds and then poof. Emma didn't even feel the van move, but that was definitely the house that Sam and Dean built right outside of her window. Angel friends are the best.

"I should check on Balthazar and Asmodeus," Michael said as they looked at the house.

"It doesn't look like anyone else is here, so I'll go see how Bobby's holding up. Maybe I can help with the phones or something."

"Pray if you need me."

"Will do." He was already gone, but Emma felt like he heard her anyway.

She slipped out of the van, took in a deep breath, and started across the yard. There's a small chill in the air because it's still early, but spring is definitely knocking. It won't be long before everything starts blooming and the days turn hot. Bobby's house was quiet as she stepped inside, but she decided against calling out. He might be doing something important, and she doesn't want to interrupt him. She stepped into the living room and Bobby's back was to her. He was sitting on his desk, in front of his chair, and muttering something under his breath. Emma was just getting ready to holler out a greeting when someone answered the older hunter's mutterings, and Emma knows that voice!

"Crowley!" Bobby looked over his shoulder as Crowley leaned to the side, and Emma pressed a hand against her stomach. So this how it feels to be faint. Bobby's sitting on the desk, Crowley is sitting in the chair right in front of him, between his legs… "Really? Crowley?"

"It ain't what it looks like," Bobby huffed.

"Oh, good, because I thought you were letting the King of Hell clean your pipes out!" It's too early to deal with this. She should've drove.

"'Fraid I'm just a masseuse, darling," Crowley drawled as he dropped his chin onto Bobby's knee.

"He's giving you a foot massage?" That was even weirder than what she first suspected.

"I've been too busy to go into town." Crowley pouted at that, and Emma tried to understand how that sentence could even make sense. Because Bobby? Getting a foot massage? From Crowley? It feels like her brain is broken.

"Bobby, dude, where's your dignity?" The older hunter shrugged, and Emma couldn't help but to notice that he looked completely relaxed. Relieved maybe.

"Lost it during the last Apocalypse."

"Fair enough. So, uh, Crowley. This is a normal thing?"

"He keeps me honest," the demon said with a sly glance upwards. Bobby huffed and shook his leg to dislodge Crowley, and the King just leaned back in the chair.

"Nothin' keeps you honest, but, yeah, it's a normal thing."

"He treat you right?" Is this what it's like to have kids? No, kids probably can't glare with that kind of long suffering look mixed in.

"I haven't killed him yet."

"I'm guessing the boys don't know?"

"Bobby won't let me shout from the rooftops," Crowley grinned. Oh, wow, she really needs to get out of here. Bobby and Crowley? They're Bobby _and_ Crowley.

"Haven't had a chance yet," Bobby answered. Probably because they'll flip, not that either of them have any room to talk. Not really.

"Right. I'll keep my mouth shut, but you should probably tell them soon. So something like this doesn't happen." She waved her arms to indicate what she just interrupted, which could've been a lot worse looking back.

"I will."

"Okay then. I'm gonna go back to the house and get really, really, really drunk. Call if you need anything."

"Thanks, Emma."

"Bye, Gracie."

Emma slowly walked back the way she just came and slipped into the empty house. So, Bobby's getting down with the King of Hell. Well, it is the End Times and everything, so whatever makes him happy. It's still weird, but maybe that's because he's getting a foot massage from the demon she sold her soul to. It could be worse, right? At least Crowley is on their side and helps them out from time to time, when he's not busy massaging Bobby. Or doing other things. To Bobby. Yeah, she definitely needs a drink. Possibly twenty. Where's Dean's good booze?

By the time Michael appeared in the kitchen, Emma was lying across the counter between the sink and fridge as she talked to a bottle of Scotch. She's not much of a Scotch drinker, she prefers fruity drinks, but she can work with Scotch. The archangel stood next to her and gently removed the bottle from her fingers, and Emma twisted her head around to smile dopily up at the angel. She's not completely plastered, not yet, but she's feeling pretty damn good. Michael walked the bottle over to the kitchen table to sit it down, and he drug one of the kitchen chairs over to where she was. Emma just looked on with a smile as he lowered himself into the chair, propped his arms on the counter next to her hip, and then laid his chin on his forearm with his head turned towards her.

"Why are you drunk?"

"Because it's the end of the world, and I survived another day. I'm celebratin'!"

"Do you always celebrate so strongly?" He was smiling as he asked, and Emma's arm waved wildly through the air before landing down to pat the top of Michael's head.

"Yes. No. Depends on the oh-ccasion. How's Balthy?"

"Balthazar is fine. He sends his love." Michael's smile was teasing and light, and Emma moved her hand to pat his cheek. So many pretty angels. Where's Cas? And Gabriel's pretty eyes?

"I like Balthy. He's sexy and laughs at my jokes." An angel with an accent. A _British_ accent. What kind of girl can resist that?

"Did we miss the party?" Gabriel's back!

**SAM**

"Wakey, wakey!" Sam swatted at the finger poking the center of his forehead and tried to drown out the sound of Gabriel giggling with a jaw cracking yawn. It didn't work, but he tried. "C'mon, sleepyhead, it's a new day! Time to get up and smell the chocolate!"

"I thought it was coffee?" He managed to get one eye open, and Gabriel's face was a blur as he tried to focus on the bouncing archangel. Sam was laying down and buried under the fluffy blanket, and Gabriel was sitting up beside him.

"Pfft! Who wants coffee when you can have chocolate? Now get up! I'm bored!" Sam closed his one eye and rolled over onto his side so that his back was to the archangel. He's still tired from digging last night.

"Then go do something. Somewhere else," he huffed out.

"But we're _partners_, Sambo! No man gets left behind! So get up!" Sam did an exaggerated wiggle to show that he wasn't moving, and he felt the bed moving behind him. It felt like Gabriel was getting up, so maybe today was his lucky day and the archangel was going to leave him in peace. Of course, he forgot that his name was Sam Winchester, and he's never that lucky.

"Argh!" The mattress shook as Gabriel started jumping, and Sam immediately curled his legs up to protect the important bits. The mattress was shaking so much that it felt like an earthquake, and Gabriel kept chanting as he jumped.

"Get up! Get up! Get up!" Sam flipped the blanket back and swept his legs out, and Gabriel yelped as he flew over the side of the bed. There was a quiet thump as he hit the floor, and Sam took a moment to stretch as he sat up in the bed. He managed to literally kick an archangel off the bed. Maybe it's his lucky day after all. It was his last thought before something barreled into his side, and he shouted out a little blasphemy as he was tackled off the bed. His side hit the ground and he rolled onto his stomach, and he could feel Gabriel sitting on his back.

"Get. Off."

"You kicked me."

"You were jumping!"

"You wouldn't get up!"

"Gabriel!"

"Samuel!"

Sam grunted with the effort of standing up, and he got to hear Gabriel squeal as he was tossed back. Once he was on his feet, Sam stretched his arms over his head and listened to his spine pop. He felt a little better, so he turned around to see Gabriel lying on the floor on his back. The archangel was wearing a pair of light (and very worn out) looking jeans and a cream colored sweater, and his bare toes were tickling against Sam's ankle. He should look ridiculous, especially with his hair sticking up like he'd stuck his finger in a light socket, but the light colored sweater made his golden eyes glow. Sam kicked at the archangel's wiggling toes, snatched up his bag, and locked himself in the bathroom.

After brushing his teeth and getting dressed for the day, he felt a little more human. He was still thinking of ways to kill his archangel _partner_, but it was more of a hobby than something on his to-do list. Gabriel was waiting for him on the bed, which was perfectly made, and Sam was happy to note that he was at least wearing shoes now. Golden eyes moved over him, and Sam tried not to fidget at the look. He's dressed like he always is. Dark jeans, a white v-neck, and a plaid shirt that definitely does not have cream undertones. It's just the only one he has clean right now.

"I'm calling Bobby," he said before Gabriel could get a single word out. The archangel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but he didn't say anything as Sam pulled out his cell phone and called the older hunter. Bobby didn't have much to tell him. Things were quiet, strangely so, and he didn't have any immediate jobs. Emma's job was done, and she was driving back now. Dean's job was wrapped up, and he'd be headed back any minute. So Bobby told him to just come on home and they'd figure things out later.

"Okay, I let you have some me-time in the bathroom and was perfectly quiet while you talked to Hunter Yoda. Can I talk now?"

"We're going back," Sam said quickly. Emma and Dean were already on the way, so he should be there at around the same time as them. Maybe even sooner.

"I'm not arguing that, but we don't have to drive. I can just snap us there, no muss no fuss, on one condition." It would be nice to just be there without driving for hours, but this is Gabriel. His condition could be anything.

"What is it?"

"We go have breakfast first." That was almost too easy. There's a catch somewhere.

"We can't go to the same diner as yesterday. We might run into one of the neighbors." One of the neighbors that they're never supposed to see again. Gabriel smiled and snapped his fingers, and Sam's bag disappeared. He raised a brow, which Gabriel mirrored.

"It's in the truck. Don't worry, I'll get the truck on our way back. Ready?" He's probably going to regret this, but how bad can getting breakfast be?

"Yeah, I'm ready." Gabriel moved over to his side and snapped his fingers, and Sam opened his eyes to see a small café. People moved around them on the small sidewalk, and Sam heard a small portion of conversations that were definitely not in English. "Where are we?"

"Definitely not Italy." Sam looked up at the sky, but it still looked to be about nine. Which is when he woke up. If they're across the ocean, time should be different. The question must have showed on his face, because Gabriel answered for him. "I also did not time travel. Not even a little. Come on!"

"Just breakfast!" Sam reminded him as Gabriel drug him into the café by his wrist. He let the archangel push him into a chair at a corner table, and hazel eyes kept flicking around the homey café as Gabriel ordered for them. He ordered in Italian, so Sam had no idea what he was going to be eating, but he trusted Gabriel with his food. If the archangel wanted to poison him, he'd have done it by now. And Sam had a feeling that Gabriel loved food too much to poison it.

"What's with the wide-eyed look, kiddo?" Sam was sitting sideways on his barstool type seat so that he could keep looking around, and he turned his head to look at Gabriel. The archangel had his elbows propped up on the old wooden table, and his chin was resting on his laced fingers.

"I've been to Canada and Mexico, but I've never been overseas. I just want to take it in, I guess," he shrugged. When he was younger, he wanted to travel to some place new. He felt like he'd seen everything America had to offer after his one hundredth motel stay, and sometimes he'd dream about exotic places where motels didn't exist.

"We can always come back. Just say the word."

"What if I want to go to the Louvre?"

"I can tell you more about history than that place," Gabriel said with a dramatic eye roll. Then again, most of Gabriel's gestures are dramatic.

"Or you can tell me the correct history of everything we look at," Sam pointed out. The chance to have an archangel give him correct historical facts? Well, mostly correct. It is Gabriel.

"It's a date." Sam started to protest that particular phrasing, but their food was placed in front of them before he got the chance. The timing was too perfect. Sam suspected Gabriel's meddling, but he didn't say anything as he dug into the food. The drink was thick with cream and just the right temperature so that it didn't scald his tongue, and the bread was light and filled with something chocolaty. Of course Gabriel ordered chocolate for breakfast.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Sam asked once he was through. Gabriel had twice as much as him, but he was nearly done.

"'Cause we're partners," he shrugged.

"Uhuh, sure." His eyes were moving over the café again, taking in the décor and the way the other customers interacted with one another. It was warm and smelled sweet inside the café, and Sam's light breakfast managed to fill him up without making him feel stuffed.

"You wound me, Sammykins, you really do. Can't I do something nice without getting the third degree?" Sam just gave him a look. (Not a bitchface.) Gabriel stuck his tongue out at him and shoveled in the last of his breakfast. He dropped some money onto the table, grabbed Sam's wrist, and snapped his fingers.

"Home?" It was a stupid question to ask, because he helped build the porch he was standing on, but he still had to ask. The truck Gabriel conjured up for him was parked in front of the house, next to Emma's van. Michael must have brought her back too instead of driving. The Impala was still missing, so Dean was more than likely driving. Either because he just really likes driving or he wants a little more alone time with his angel.

"Yep, and your bag is in your room. They're in the kitchen." Gabriel strode off into the house, and Sam was once again stuck hurrying after him. Shouldn't it be the other way around? The archangel didn't stop until he was in the kitchen doorway, and Sam stopped next to him to take a look around. Dean's half empty bottle of Scotch was on the table, Emma was laying on one of the kitchen counters, and Michael was sitting in a kitchen chair right next to her. Did they miss something?

"Did we miss the party?" Emma's hazy eyes looked over at them, and her bright smile made her cheeks bulge when she noticed them. Michael turned sideways in his chair to look at them, and the older angel had a small smile on his face.

"Gabriel! Sammy bear! Join the celebration!" Emma's arms waved wildly, and she narrowly avoided hitting the side of Michael's head.

"What are we celebratin', sugar?" Gabriel's voice was a low drawl, and Emma's eyes drooped at the quiet sound. Almost like she was listening to a lullaby.

"Being alive! Duh! Now drink up!"

"It's gonna take more than Deano's Scotch to get me tipsy, but I've got just the thing. What do you say, Gigantor? Wanna celebrate being alive?"

"Michael too!" Emma called out. The archangel didn't protest, and Sam looked down at Gabriel. Golden eyes met his, and Sam thought it over. Two drunk archangels and two drunk hunters, what could possibly go wrong? Probably anything and everything that could go wrong, but they were alive. Might as well celebrate that now while they still can.

"I don't know," he said quietly. Gabriel's smile dimmed the tiniest bit, like he'd been rooting for Sam's approval, and Sam had to fight to keep his neutral expression. "Emma's already got a lead on us."

"We'll catch up in no time," Gabriel winked. Sam's definitely going to regret this before the day is over, but he can't find it in him to care. He's alive, and he's going to celebrate.

**EMMA**

At some point, between the angels' tenth and fourteenth shots, Emma managed to sit up on the counter instead of just lying across it. Michael had turned the kitchen chair around so that the back of it was pressed against the cabinets when the drinking really started, and Emma currently had her legs hooked over his shoulders. Michael's left hand was wrapped around her knee, to keep her from lilting to the side, and his right hand was gripping a bottle of glowing blue liquid that Gabriel snapped into existence. Her fingers were also laced together and resting on top of the archangel's head, so that she could rest her chin on her hands. Sam was straddling another kitchen chair on the other side of the room, with his hands dangling over the back of the chair, and Gabriel was sitting on top of the kitchen table.

"Can I have some of the blue stuff?" Emma asked. Her eyes kept flicking around as she watched the glowing blue drink, and Michael held up the bottle as he waved it just out of her reach.

"Do you wanna die?" She pouted at Gabriel as she made a swipe at the bottle, and she dug her heels into Michael's stomach when she almost tipped over.

"I think it's too strong for us," Sam mumbled. He was looking at Gabriel's own bottle, which was sitting on the table next to the archangel's crossed legs.

"Just a little taste," Emma said and stretched her arm a little further. She had one hand clamped onto the top of Michael's head, her legs were still draped over his shoulders with her heels pressing against his torso, and her other arm was stretched out but still couldn't reach the waving bottle.

"It's the drink of the gods! Puny mortals can't handle it!" Gabriel exclaimed. Sam snorted, and Emma paused her wild flailing to look over at the laughing archangel.

"Who you callin' puny?! You're not so big yourself, oh mighty archness!" Gabriel squawked while Sam laughed, and Emma felt accomplished. Now if only she could have some of the glowing blue stuff. Michael stuck his finger into the bottle, let some of the pretty liquid touch his angelic skin, and then raised the digit up. Emma looked at his upside down eyes, clapped her hands against his cheeks, and stuck her tongue out. A small drop, barely even that, of the glowing stuff touched her tongue. It tasted like burning ice and clouds, and Emma felt like her nervous system had been hit by lightning.

"Told ya that ya were too puny." A marshmallow bounced off her forehead and landed in her lap, and Emma plucked it up so she could pop it into her mouth. What? It's not like it fell on the floor. Wait, where is she?

"That…was…awesome!" She must have actually fell, because she's in Michael's lap now. Her back is pressed against his front, her legs are spread over his, and her head is lolling back against his shoulder. "Can I have another?"

"No!" She pouted at Sam and Gabriel but didn't argue. What little bit of self-preservation that was still hanging on was telling her that another taste would probably stop her heart.

"What do clouds taste like?" she asked the room. Michael and Gabriel laughed, because they're assholes like that, and Sam just blinked at her.

"I think she's had too much," Sam whispered (loudly) to Gabriel.

"No such thing, Sammy bear!" Emma called over.

"Truer words have never been spoken," Gabriel said and winked over at her. He snapped, and Emma's smile brightened as a margarita appeared in her hand. The green slush inside looked radioactive, and there was a pink crazy straw sticking up out of it.

"We need some tunes," Emma observed after a very long sip. Was her tongue radioactive green now?

"Way ahead of you, sugar." Gabriel snapped again and a guitar appeared in his hands. Gabriel can play the guitar? Wait, he's like, a bazillion years old, so of course he can play the guitar. "I'd like to dedicate this one too all of the disgustingly tall people out there."

"Gabriel!" Emma laughed so hard that she almost accidentally sucked down her straw but luckily Michael was there to help her out. Her eyes had stopped watering by the time Gabriel started strumming, and she let her eyes slip closed as she rhythmically sucked at her drink.

"Out in the cold, out in the dark, something's lurking at the edge of the park. People be warned, people beware, there's a storm on the rise and it's covered in hair."

Gabriel's low voice wasn't half bad, and Emma wiggled a bit to get more comfortable before sipping back at her drink. Michael was warm and solid behind her, and Gabriel's still singing.

"Hear him cry, hear him howl, looking for someone to disembowel! Claws like a hook, eyes like coal, feet so big they're gonna crush your soul!"

They should do this more often. Yeah, there's a few demons (angels?) trying to end the world or whatever, but the world's still spinning for now. Might as well enjoy it.

"They caaaaaall hiiiiiim, Saaaaaamsquatch!"

The gentle strumming and Gabriel's angelic voice abruptly cut off, and Emma's eyes lazily opened to see what the big deal was. Huh, okay. So, one of two things happened. Either Sam really didn't like the song or he just felt like it was time to tackle Gabriel off the kitchen table.

"Get 'im, Samsquatch!" Emma has a bond with Gabriel and everything, but she's gotta cheer for her fellow human. It's just how things are done.

"Traitor!" Gabriel called out from somewhere underneath the twisting mass of Sam. It looked pretty funny from her angle, and Gabriel was squealing from Sam's attack.

"Puny mortals for the win!" Despite the squealing and Sam's angry shouting, Emma still heard the quiet snap. One minute she was reclined against an archangel and the next second she was up in the air. Her arms flailed wildly before latching onto something soft, and she knows this hair! Giant sized hands clamped down on her knees to keep her from slipping off his shoulders, and she slowly petted Sam's hair.

"How'd I get up here?" she mumbled. Sam shrugged, and Emma giggled at the way she lifted and fell with the movement. Wow, she's never been this tall before. She should always ride around on Sam's shoulders.

"Focus, sugar, we've gots a battle to do." Emma blinked and looked away from Sam's soft hair, and she snorted out her laugh at the archangels. Gabriel was perfectly balanced on Michael's shoulders, and the older archangel was smiling happily as he loosely held onto his little brother's shins.

"Like chicken? But there's no water."

"Pick a weapon." Emma thought it over while stroking Sam's luxurious hair and then the perfect thought hit her.

"Lightsaber." Gabriel's answering smile made his pretty eyes glow, and Emma whooped as a green lightsaber appeared in her hands. Gabriel's lightsaber was a bright purple, just like Mace Windu's. Whatever. She has Yoda's, and she's going to kick some ass.

"You're goin' down, Ems," Gabriel said as Sam and Michael started to circle around one another.

"Go down you will." There was a clash of light as the battle began in earnest, and Gabriel snapped again. Sam was suddenly holding a yellow lightsaber, and Michael was looking down at the blue lightsaber in his hand. Oh, this was gonna be good.

"CHARGE!"

**SAM**

He was ducking from a shaft of bright purple light as Emma clutched at his chin and leaned forward to parry against Michael when a loud yell made them all freeze. Sam straightened up, with Emma still on his shoulders, and he could see Michael and Gabriel mirroring their position. Dean was standing in the doorway with Cas beside him, and the angel was holding an unconscious redhead in his arms. They all stood silently, waiting, as Dean's eyes moved around the room. Empty bottles were everywhere, one of the kitchen chairs was broken from where Sam tackled Gabriel, and the table got flipped over during their battle.

"What the hell is going on?!" Dean finally bellowed out.

"Winning we were!" Emma shouted.

"In your dreams!" Gabriel yelled back.

"I thought we were evenly matched," Michael said in a calm voice.

"We were definitely kicking ass," Sam agreed. Their voices were a little bit slurred, and the room was still spinning. Or maybe that was just from Emma swaying.

"Are you all drunk? Even the angels?!" Dean looked like an angry and disappointed mother, and Sam drummed his fingers against Emma's knee. The other hand was still holding his yellow lightsaber.

"Nectar of the gods," Gabriel hummed. Right, the blue stuff that made Emma moan and jump three feet in the air. Sam thought she'd died, but Michael reassured him that it just gave her a little shock.

"I leave all of you alone for one day, and you go and wreck my entire kitchen! Go upstairs and sober up! I'll deal with you later!" Definitely an angry mother. Cas was looking at them with disappointed eyes and shaking his head, even with an unconscious woman in his arms, and it was all so surreal.

"Michael, sweetheart, catch me." The lightsabers disappeared as Emma fell backwards off his shoulders, and Michael was holding the laughing hunter when he turned around. Turning around turned out to be a mistake, because Gabriel jumped up onto his exposed back. Arms and legs locked around him, and a victory laugh sounded in his ear.

"Bed! Now!"

"Okay, Dad, we're going!" Emma shouted back. Dean's glare was hot enough to peel paint, and Emma buried her face against Michael's shoulder. The oldest archangel turned his own disappointed look on Dean, probably for making Emma feel bad, and he made quiet shushing sounds to the little hunter as he strode from the room.

"Oh, she's good. Take me to bed, Samsquatch," Gabriel declared and nuzzled the back of his head. He didn't stick around long enough to see Dean and Cas's reaction; he just held onto the backs of Gabriel's knees and forced himself up the stairs. It took a really long time, because he had to keep stopping and wait for the room to stop spinning, but he finally made it. His hands pressed against the wall as he lumbered down the hallway to his bedroom, and Gabriel was singing a slow song about a sad crab.

"Would you shut up?" Sam groaned as he finally reached his room. His bed was right there, and his overnight bag was on the floor. Right, Gabriel got it out of the truck. Emma's present was in there. He'll give it to her tomorrow, when the room's not spinning.

"Never!" He dropped Gabriel onto the mattress and tried to toe his boots off, and he slumped back against the wall when they refused to loosen. "Oh, hey, I got this."

"What are you—" The familiar snapping sound was followed by a slight breeze, and Sam glanced down at his body. He was wearing his red flannel sleep pants and a white wife beater, and his bare toes wiggled against the carpet. Gabriel's red boxers were almost the same color as Sam's pants, and the archangel was wearing a worn out looking wife beater.

"Sleepy time now, Sammykins. C'mere." Gabriel waved his hand as he flopped back against the mattress, and Sam didn't even have the energy to argue with him. He shuffled over to the bed and gracefully fell down, and he scooted around until he was flat on his back with his head on a pillow. Gabriel wiggled over until he was curled up on his side and using Sam's stomach as a pillow, and he grabbed one of Sam's hands and pushed it against his hair. Okay, he can take a hint. He threaded his fingers through the archangel's hair and let his eyes fall closed.

"Goodnight, Gabriel." No reply. Finally, silence. Sam fell asleep before he could fully enjoy it.

* * *

**Finis: **Should I apologize for all of the Star Wars stuff? Me and some friends had a Star Wars marathon one night and then got really drunk the next night, and I wrote this chapter while I was still a bit hungover. So if anything seems off, that's why. The next chapter is…well, hmm. It starts off good and ends in a predicament.

About the unconscious redhead, that'll be explained eventually. If you want to know why Dean and Cas have an unconscious person with them, you can read the side story. I didn't want to keep adding POVs to this story, because then things get really confusing, so I'm just going to post a side story. You don't have to read it, but the characters in it will eventually show up in this story. (Also, the new story is going to have our favorite fallen angel in it, because who doesn't love a sassy Satan?) The side story has been posted, so go read _Gotta Have Faith_!

To see the video that inspired Gabriel's song, just remove the spaces: youtu . be / jAhGgCUpLaE


	22. Chapter 22

**TIB: **Small warning for this chapter because it earns the M rating. Enjoy!

**Guest:** Thank you for the review! Yeah, writing about drunk hunters and archangels was really fun. Maybe, one day, I'll get to write another party chapter. With Dean and Cas next time. I'm so glad you like Emma! She's really fun to write too, because I am definitely not Emma. So the only time I get to be sarcastic and sassy is when I write her.

**Lexi: **Haha, I'm glad you liked it! Writing about them all being drunk and just having fun was so amazing to write. I feel like they don't ever get to just relax and do crazy stuff, so they deserved to have a little bit of fun. And Dean and Cas are definitely the parents. Thank you for the review!

**Handara: **Alcohol can either be a horrible thing or a wonderful thing. This time, it all worked out. Thank you for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two  
****Oh, Great Archangel Michael**

* * *

**EMMA**

"Run, Luke!" She was sitting straight up when her eyes flew open, and her stomach rolled in a way that told her she had under five minutes to find a toilet. Or a bush, depending on her location. No, she distinctly remembers coming up to bed. Michael carried her upstairs and then…then, oh no. There's something about being deliriously drunk that calls for stripping, which is what Emma did as soon as she was placed onto her feet in her bedroom. She's pretty sure she talked Michael into stripping down too.

"Who's Luke?" Emma yelped and jumped at the quiet voice, and she felt fingers pressing into the skin of her thighs. Wide dark brown eyes looked down, and that's good. She's still wearing her black hunting tee shirt and a pair of panties. She's also straddling a nearly naked archangel, and she's not so sure how she feels about that. That's it, no more drinking. Not that much anyway. Michael is stripped down to a pair of simple black boxers, and she must have fallen asleep draped over him. Why else would she be straddling him now?

"From a movie. I had a dream we were being chased by giant marshmallows, with fangs. It was scary, and I'm gonna go puke now." She went to move off of him, but the hands holding onto her thighs tightened to hold her in place.

"You're sick?"

"It's called a hangover. It happens after a night of hard drinking. Symptoms include extreme headache, light sensitivity, nausea and puking, and a bad case of dry mouth. So, I'm gonna go hurl for a few hours and then sleep next to the toilet." Hey, this isn't her first rodeo. She knows the drill.

"I don't have a hangover." She raised a brow in answer, because of course he doesn't. He's an _angel_. Hangovers are only for puny mortals. Dark hazel eyes narrowed as he moved one hand from her thigh to her cheek, and Emma really tried not to watch the way the muscles in his chest and stomach moved as he sat up. So many pretty colors…and her stupid pounding headache isn't letting her enjoy anything! Not Michael's beautimous eyes, or the warm hand cupping her cheek, or the small concentrated furrow between his brows.

"Mic—" Her request to go pray to the porcelain gods was cut off as a cool breeze swept all the way through her, and Emma groaned quietly at the sudden absence of pain. Headache? Gone! Nausea? Nonexistent! Scent of cow carcass on her tongue? Replaced with minty freshness! "Holy baloney, I could kiss you!"

Emma was still reveling in the relaxation of her body now that all of her aches and pains were breezed away when something brushed across her lips. Her eyes, which had closed when the breeze first started up, slowly opened. Huh, Michael's dark eyes were even prettier up this close. She felt like her eyes were crossing as dry lips drug against hers, and her lungs weren't working. How can she think about a silly little thing like breathing when an archangel has his lips on hers? Michael pulled back, with a confused furrow between his brows now, and Emma just blinked at him. Is she still dreaming?

"You said you wanted to kiss me." His head did that little tilt thing, a habit all the angels seemed to have, and Emma thought over the past few minutes. Okay, she did say that, but she didn't mean it like that. It's an expression of gratitude.

"It's just an—oh, fuck it." She leaned forward to kiss him again, because that little brush earlier? That wasn't a kiss, but this is. Michael's head is still tilted, and he's at the perfect angle for her to pull his bottom lip between hers. The fingers against her cheek moved to tangle in her hair and hold her still, and Emma pulled back. What's she doing, kissing an archangel? Did yesterday's drinking binge kill off some vital brain cells?

"Can we kiss again?" Brain cells or not, she's not gonna deny the archangel what he wants. A quiet little sigh brushed her lips as she kissed him again, and she brought her hands up to his soft hair. It's not as long as Sam's, or Gabriel's for that matter, but it's thick enough for her to really hold on to. His lips are warm and dry against hers, but she can fix that. She can just get them a little slick and stop there, she can. Just a slow slide of her tongue over his bottom lip, where it's trapped between her teeth, and little flicks against his top lip. Just small little teasing tastes, that's all.

The hand in her hair moved back down to grip her thigh, and the archangel used the hold to pull her closer. She nipped his top lip at the sudden move, and his lips parted against hers. No, she's fine with the soft kissing. It's enough for now. A slick slide brushed over her bottom lip, just like she'd done moments before, and her fingers tightened in his hair. He was mirroring what she'd done, like he was learning what to do from her. Like he'd never done this before, and who knows? Maybe he hasn't. That thought shouldn't be as hot as it is, and she could hear her own quiet groan as she chased his tongue back into his mouth. She's gotta taste him. Has to. It's everything she hasn't wanted to imagine. The archangel tastes like mint and clouds, and she doesn't even know what that means but she wants more.

"We should slow down," she huffed out a few long minutes later. There's a quiet throbbing on her thighs where Michael's fingers are gripping her, but it's nothing compared to the ache _between_ her thighs. She hasn't been with anyone since coming topside, and it's been years since anyone touched her like this. _(It's been centuries, and it feels so good to just be wanted again.)_

"You don't want to." Michael breathed the words against her lips, and Emma dipped in for another small taste. Just a quick flick of her tongue before pushing her forehead against Michael's.

"No, I don't want to slow down, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't. I mean, have you ever done anything like this?" He kisses with the slow innocence of someone who hasn't, and that shouldn't make her breath catch. It really shouldn't. _(Unless she's the first one to ever see him like this. To touch him like this.)_

"Not in a human body." Her groan sounded more like a whine as she clutched at his dark hair, and his fingers ran up and down her legs in hard presses.

"What do you want?" She's a hunter. She's had one night stands and weekend affairs, so she doesn't have a problem with getting under the sheets with someone she's just met. Or people she's known for a while and stuff happens when you're high on adrenaline. Still, this is Michael. The Archangel. Someone that she thinks of as a friend and who is apparently the human equivalent of a virgin. She'll do whatever he wants, or doesn't want, to do.

"Everything." Fuck, he's gonna kill her. Either literally or in the sweetest way possible; it's a toss-up. She brushed past his lips to nibble at his jaw line, and his answering groan sounded like it'd been punched out of him. Lips, tongue, and teeth moved across his jaw and down to his neck. She's barely getting started and the archangel is already breathing heavy. He's so sensitive that it's driving her crazy, and she still wants _more_.

Hands finally released her thighs and bunched up against her tee shirt, and Emma bit down on the curve of his shoulder. Michael's hands flexed as he moaned, the sound of tearing fabric reached her ears, and then her shirt was gone. Whatever. It was a plain black one and easy to replace. Warm hands skimmed her ribcage before grabbing at her back, and Michael's head nuzzled against hers. Her teeth released the darkening mark on his shoulder so she could kiss him again, and she could do this forever. Feel Michael's tongue shyly brushing against hers as she tastes him. They haven't even made it to the naughtier side of things and she's close to falling apart, just from the way his skin feels pressed against hers.

"_Michael."_ She meant to ask him a question, about what he was okay with her doing, but she can't find the words. All she can do is pull at his hair and bite at his lips until they're wet and red. There was a sudden breeze on her ass as the last of her clothes disappeared, and her hips rolled against the hardness pressing against the inside of her thigh. Strong fingers pressed against her shoulder blades, almost too hard, but she didn't care. Wanted to feel it again. Loved that she was making him lose a little bit of his control.

"I know the mechanics, but I don't—" He broke off with a moan as her hips rolled again, because she can't stay still, not with the way that he's pulling at her and breathing against her heated skin.

"I'll show you." She's never had a thing for virgins; that's always been more of a guy thing, right? But the way that Michael is looking at her, like she's something wonderful and beautiful, well…she gets the appeal. She curled one hand in his hair as the other reached between them, and the archangel hissed and bit his bottom lip when she wrapped her fingers around him. She can't have that. She moved forward to lick at the corners of his mouth until he stopped, because she wants to hear him. Even if it's just quiet groans or sighs, she wants to hear him.

It's been a while since she's done this, but she doesn't need any more foreplay or anything. She actually can't remember the last time she was this excited, and she's not going to worry about protection. She knows she's clean, because she's always been smart when it comes to sex, and Michael's an angel. A virgin angel, apparently, so she's got nothing to worry about. Just this once, she wants to _feel_ without anything getting in the way. Michael pressed his face against her collarbone as she moved over him, warm puffed out breaths hit the top of her breasts as she slowly started to sink down, and she had to go slow because it has been a while. It almost hurt to take him all the way in, and her thighs were shaking by the time she was fully seated. She moved her hand back to his hair and lightly scratched against his scalp as she gave herself a moment to adjust, and she felt Michael's lips dragging across the top of her chest.

"Okay?" He sounded like he'd just run a marathon, and she wasn't doing much better. His thighs were tense against her shaking ones, and their stomachs brushed with every heavy breath.

"So totally okay. Hold on, sweetheart, it's about to get a lot better," she said with a quiet laugh. Michael pulled back to look at her, and Emma's lips curved into a smile as she tensed her shaking legs and pushed herself up just to drop back down. She could barely see the hazel of Michael's eyes as his lips parted in an "O." Her hips rolled with every lift and quiet sighs pushed past her lips with every drop, and she's not gonna last long. It's been too long since she's done this, and Michael keeps looking at her like he's seeing her for the first time. She's got bedhead and is probably making some kind of ridiculous face as she rides him, but he's looking at her like she's the most amazing thing since sliced bread.

"Emma, can I?" She's not really sure what he's asking, but he's new to this so it can't be anything too kinky. Besides, she trusts him. She's got a good rhythm going so she just nodded and trusted him. Hands pressed against her heaving ribcage before fingers moved gently over her breasts, and a moan slipped out at the teasing touches. She waited for the touches to firm, but his hands just kept moving up towards her face. He pulled her down into a kiss, and the changed angle hit her just right. Her tightening muscles forced a groan out of him, and she smiled into the kiss as she rolled her hips harder.

Faster and harder. She needs to go faster and harder, but she can't do that in this position. With a last nip to his bottom lip, she pulled back and bent her back the tiniest bit. She released the grip on his hair to grab at his thighs, and her hips slammed down against him. Much better. Her spine arched at the new angle, and Michael's hands roamed over her body now that it wasn't pressed against his. Framed her shoulders, smoothed down between her breasts, and spanned the area between her hipbones. He shyly brushed across where they were joined before grabbing her thighs and rolling his hips like she'd done to start with. Oh, he is a fast learner. Emma tried not to whine as he moved to match her, because she's hanging on by a thread as it is. His eyes locked on hers as he reached up to grab her hips and pull her even harder against him, and his hand fit perfectly over the burned handprint on her hip.

"_Emma, Emma, Emma. Don't deserve happiness, not after the things I've done. Emma, Emma. Talks to me like an equal. Makes me smile. Makes me better. Emma, Emma, Emma. Made this body. Made it with _my_ hands. Mine. Emma, Emma."_

Michael's thoughts were echoing through her head, and it was so hard to latch onto any one thing. He was thinking about how he'd failed his brothers and his sisters, his Father, and how he wanted to be better. He was thinking about the look in her eyes whenever he did something good. He was thinking about the way she tucked a blanket around him and took off his shoes, as if he was just a human man that needed comfort. And he wanted comfort. Didn't know he'd wanted it until he'd gotten it. He was thinking about her body, the one he constructed cell by cell until she was whole again. He was thinking about how she was perfect, with all of her flaws and imperfections, because she was so human. It was all too much and still somehow not enough, and she screamed without making a sound as she came.

"Michael?" Strong hands pulled her up against him as he pushed up inside her, and Emma dug her short nails into his back as she held on. Teeth bit into the side of her neck as he held still inside of her, and Emma let out one last sigh as he fell apart against her. So that's what it feels like when a guy comes without a condom. Little wet and probably gross later, but she's okay with it. 'Cause it's Michael. She could feel his hands smoothing across her back as they both tried to catch their breath, and Emma nuzzled against the bruise she'd bit into his shoulder. Maybe he won't heal it. With more strength than she knew she still had, she pulled back and looked at the archangel. She was expecting to see a blissed out face, like hers, but Michael looked…panicked?

"You okay?" Her voice was a little rough, probably from all the panting and the toe curling orgasm, and Michael slowly met her eyes.

"I'll return soon."

"No, wai—t." He was already gone, so that she was left kneeling on the bed over an empty space. And she feels sticky from sweat, and other things. Okay, let's review. They had hot, brain-melting hot, sex and then he just poofs away. She's not gonna ask if it's because she wasn't good enough, because, come on, that was amazing. It was his first time, in a human body, so maybe he just needs some space. There was also that whole thought sharing thing right before her big finish, so he might be embarrassed about what she heard. Or maybe he's just feeling extremely vulnerable, and Emma gets that. He's probably not used to being that exposed, and everything is going to be okay.

She needs chocolate. And a shower. Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror in just her bra and panties. She can see the bruises on the outside of her left thigh, and she's sure the right one is bruised under the tattoos. She's also got finger sized bruises on her back, and the mark on the left side of her neck is only going to get darker. Her muscles are sore and achy in the best kind of way, and her lips are sensitive and a tiny bit puffy. She looks like she just had the lay of her life, which she did, but said-lay isn't here to enjoy the afterglow. So, chocolate. Emma pulled on a pair of soft jeans and a green Lucky Charms tee shirt, and she balled her wet hair up on top of her head. There's no point in trying to hide the hickey, because it's very noticeable. If you look close enough, you can even see little teeth imprints. There might've been a small touch of blood too, but whatever. She feels awesome. She's not gonna let Michael's disappearing act ruin her post-orgasmic high.

The house was quiet as she crept downstairs, which is a good sign. The kitchen is clean too, so Dean must've cleaned up before going to bed. Yesterday is still kinda hazy, but she remembers a chair breaking when Sam tackled Gabriel off the table. The table also got flipped over during a lightsaber fight that was beyond epic. So, Sam and Gabriel are probably still sleeping it off. It's still early anyway. Going by her alarm clock upstairs, it's just now five-thirty. In the morning. She's pretty sure they all passed out a little before eleven last night, when Dean and Cas returned to break up the party. Dean and Cas…the angel had been holding an unconscious redhead. She didn't think much of it last night, because of all the drunken brain cells, but that's not normal. Not even for them. Oh well. She'll get the story whenever everyone else wakes up.

Right now, she just really wants some chocolate. There's just one problem. There isn't any. No chocolate poptarts or cereal. No chocolate syrup or chocolate milk. No candybars hidden in the fridge or any of the cabinets. What the hell is going on? There's always chocolate! Gabriel is always…oh, right. Gabriel always just snaps his chocolate into existence, and that's where she gets most of her chocolate from. She can't go wake up Gabriel and ask him to get her some chocolate because his brother blew her mind and then skipped out. She'll save that conversation for another day, but she really needs chocolate. Maybe Bobby has chocolate. He might be asleep though. He might be asleep with Crowley, which is why she got so drunk in the first place. Bobby's is out then.

"Fuck it, I'll just drive into town. I'll be back before anyone wakes up," she mumbled to herself. She eased her way back upstairs and to her room, and it only took a few minutes to get ready. Ankle and waist holsters, flipflops, phone, wallet, and keys. Ready to go. The van started up quietly enough, and she kept shifting around as she drove down an old back road. This one will lead her right to the main highway, and it's completely empty this early in the morning. Good. Her thighs are sore and tender, the muscles stretched and achy, and her neck feels hot. She'd by lying if she said she hated it, but she scowled for good measure.

It's times like these that she wishes she had a girl friend. She has some people that she considers friends, some of them are females, but none of them are someone that she can call up about something like this. If she needed help on a hunt or some info, maybe even a favor, she's got plenty of people to call. There's no one for her to talk to about amazing sex and disappearing acts though, and that's it, isn't it? Why'd he have to fly off like that anyway? Space is important and she gets that, but they could've talked it out together. Because Michael isn't some just lay, and that's a lot for her to take in. Going by the thoughts she probably wasn't supposed to hear, it wasn't just a lay for him either. It's not like she's head over heels in love with the guy, but she does care about him. Worries about him a bit. They're friends, and he pulled her ass out of Hell. She's pretty sure that she doesn't have some savior worship thing going on though, because he still gets on her nerves sometimes. He's not perfect and neither is she, and she really just wants him to come back because she's really confused.

Emma was still thinking in a loop when she noticed the car on the side of the road, and a woman waved her arms in the air as Emma drove past. The woman had looked pale and panicked, and alone, which isn't always safe. She's got a rule about hitchhikers, which is that most of them wouldn't stand a chance against her because she's always covered in weapons. Maybe helping a stranger will improve her mood. Emma stopped the van and turned around, and she pulled off on the shoulder of the road right in front of the car. The hood was up on the ugly green Toyota, so maybe the woman just needs a jump. Emma keeps some cables and tools in the van, in case of emergencies. She slipped out of her seat and walked around the car, and the woman's lips pulled up into a shaky smile. Emma smiled back and kept her distance, because she doesn't want the woman to think that she's gonna try anything. Then again, Emma's only five-four and looks pretty unthreatening.

"Need a hand?" The woman walked in front of her car so that she was standing right next to Emma, and Emma had to tip her head back a little to meet the woman's green eyes. Huh, she's tall for a woman. Five-nine, maybe, and her red hair is so pretty.

"I was actually looking for a little…_hunter_." The black of her pupils expanded to cover her eyes, and Emma was reaching for her gun when something connected with the back of her head. She didn't even have time to pray before hitting the ground.

**SAM**

Waking up wasn't slow, pleasant, or any other nice word. His head felt like someone was trying to squeeze it off, his tongue felt dry and shriveled up in his mouth, and bile was tickling the bottom of his esophagus. That wasn't even the worst of it. A certain archangel was spread out over his torso and drooling wetly on his chest, and cold toes were digging into the backs of his legs. He's too hungover to deal with this, and why is his hand buried in Gabriel's hair? Wait, where's his other hand? He tensed the muscles in his left arm and felt his fingers flex against warm skin, and Gabriel nuzzled against his sternum. Okay, right hand tangled in hair and left hand under Gabriel's wife beater and fingers spread out against his spine. Ugh, he needs to go puke out the alcohol poisoning his system.

"Get off me."

"Not happenin', Samsquatch."

"Do you want vomit in your hair?" He waited for Gabriel to roll off him, but he just raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Everything bad that comes with a night of hard drinking disappeared, and Sam smacked his lips against the minty taste in his mouth. His headache was gone too, and he didn't feel ready to hurl. Gabriel returned his hand to under Sam's back, and he could feel the other hand mirroring the placement on the other side. The cool breeze spread out to the rest of his body and got rid of his usual aches and pains, the ones that come from digging up graves and running from things trying to kill him, and Sam couldn't help the small moan that slipped out. It felt too good.

"I bet you say that to all the boys," Gabriel mumbled against his chest. Because the archangel is still treating him like a mattress.

"I hate you."

"I like to think that one is just for me." Gabriel wiggled on top of him, pushing his cold feet against Sam's legs, and Sam used the hold he had on Gabriel's hair to lift the archangel up. Golden eyes narrowed as Sam held his head up, and Sam jabbed the archangel's ribs in an attempt to get him to move. Gabriel jumped up and moved so that he was sitting on Sam's stomach, but since Gabriel isn't the tallest being out there, Sam could still reach his hair. So he kept his fingers tangled in the light brown strands while his other hand was braced against the archangel's side. Still under the wife beater.

"Get off."

"Why would I do that? I'm comfy right where I am," Gabriel said and stubbornly crossed his arms.

"You drooled on me," Sam pointed out. Quiet snap, without uncrossing his arms, and the drool was gone.

"Gabriel." It was a warning and a bit of a plea, because he really wants the archangel to get off of him. Because it's weird, right? All the cuddling? It should be weird, because Sam is massaging his fingertips against Gabriel's scalp and he's moving his head back into the light presses.

"You should stop thinking so much, Sammykins, and just let go." Gabriel's eyes were closed now as Sam played with his hair, and his hands were pressed flat against Sam's chest. It's a good thing he's wearing a wife beater, not that it helps much. He can still feel the heat of Gabriel's hands and a few fingertips are pressed against his bare collarbone.

"Just let go? With you? Not happening." It's always nice to use Gabriel's words against him. Eyes opened at the words, and Sam met the golden stare right on. He's not afraid of _eyes_. Gabriel's head tilted to the side as he looked down at him, and Sam was almost afraid of whatever was going through the archangel's mind. Eyes aren't scary. Thoughts? Those can be terrifying.

"It's the vessel, isn't it? I've only ever used one other vessel, and he was prettier. If tall, pale, and blonde is your thing," Gabriel shrugged. Sam thought back to the crates in their library and some of the pictures. A few of them had Gabriel in them, but Sam found it hard to picture Gabriel like that. Although, the other vessel certainly looked angelic. Maybe that's why it didn't make him think of the trickster archangel. "Would you let go with someone like that? Because I can change vessels, Sammy bear, if you're against this one."

"No." The quick and decisive answer surprised Sam, and Gabriel, because he sounded so _sure_.

"You sure? I've got a couple of babes in my vessel lineage." Gabriel's eyebrow wiggle made his eyes roll, and he tightened his fingers in Gabriel's hair before relaxing. It's already been a weird morning, might as well keep going.

"It wouldn't be you." This time Gabriel quirked a brow while doing a head tilt, and Sam pushed out a sigh. "I like this vessel, because it's _you_."

"Knew you liked me," Gabriel grinned.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"What about other places?" Sam rolled his eyes as Gabriel's eyebrows did that _thing_ again, and the archangel laughed at his expression. He's never going to live this down. Never. When did this happen anyway?

"I'm supposed to hate you," Sam groaned. And he did hate Gabriel, didn't he? For lying to them, for killing Dean and putting him through Hell, and for being a coward. Then Gabriel died for them (_and thought of him_), and he's stuck by them since coming out of Hell. He's helped them, kind of.

"That's part of the attraction. Makes it kinda hot, don't ya think?" He is so screwed. It snuck up on him, somehow. Somewhere between the apology cupcake and Gabriel taking him to breakfast in Italy, Sam stopped hating the archangel. He doesn't love him or anything ridiculous like that, but he doesn't hate him. "Come on, Sammykins, admit it. You like me."

"I don't hate you," Sam said slowly.

"I'll take it."

"Gab—" Huh, so this is what it's like to kiss a guy. Gabriel's lips are soft and taste like chocolate, big surprise there, and the touch is light. Like he doesn't want to push too far and scare Sam away. The kiss was so light that Sam had just enough room to mumble out, "'M not a girl."

"Really? I hadn't noticed. I think it's the hair." Sam's eyes crossed as he looked at the way Gabriel smiled at him, and he felt fingers pulling at the bottom of his hair. Sam used the hold he still had on Gabriel's own hair to pull the archangel back down, and he bit down on his bottom lip as stubble rubbed against his chin. That's new. So is the deep groan at the too hard kiss. Sam soothed the bite with a flick of his tongue, and Gabriel stretched out fully over him.

"Sam! Have you—Aw, man, what the hell?! Gabriel! Wait, are you still drunk? Is he taking advantage of you?!" Sam let go of Gabriel's bottom lip with a sigh, and the archangel dropped his face down.

"Can I kill him just one more time? I promise to bring him right back," Gabriel whispered against his neck. His warm breath made the skin prickle and his back arched, but Dean was still glaring at both of them.

"No, I'm not drunk and he's not taking advantage of me. What do you want, Dean?"

"But…Gabriel?" Dean looked lost, angry, and confused. Sam almost felt sorry for him, but his brother did just interrupt what could have been a very fun time. His brother just cockblocked him from getting laid by an archangel.

"He tastes like chocolate." He said it like it explained everything, which it kind of did. It didn't make sense, just like they didn't, except how they did.

"Gross. Whatever, I'll deal with this later. Have you seen Emma?" Gabriel twisted and wiggled down so he could rest his head on Sam's chest, and Sam brushed away the hair tickling his chin.

"Not since last night. She's not still sleeping it off?" She did have some of the blue stuff, which was strong enough to get an archangel drunk.

"Nope. She's gone and so is the van. I tried calling Michael, but he's not answering." The van was gone? What time is it? Sam looked at the clock on his nightstand, but it's only eight thirty. They were completely hammered last night, so Emma should still be nursing a hangover. Unless Michael took care of it for her like Gabriel did for him.

"Hold up, I got this." Gabriel sat up on Sam's stomach again, and Dean's eyes narrowed on the archangel. Before he could say anything, Gabriel closed his eyes and started praying, "Oh, great archangel Michael, who art such a dickbag. We ask that you return to the home of the mighty Winchesters because our favorite little hunter has run away from home. Yes, that's right, Emma is missing in action. I repeat, Emma is—"

"She's not here?" Michael was in the center of the room, and he didn't seem fazed by the fact that his little brother was straddling a Winchester. He seemed a little out of it actually. He looked the same as always; jeans, black tee shirt, no shoes. His hair was a little wilder looking than usual, but that could be from all the flying. Something about him just looked…off.

"When'd you last see her?" Gabriel asked. He had a weird look on his face that Sam couldn't pinpoint, which was unusual. Sam was getting really good at reading Gabriel's facial expressions. (Looking back, that was probably a good clue that he didn't hate the archangel as much as he thought.)

"At five. I healed her hangover before I left, and she was fine."

"Maybe she went to her van for some weirdo reason and got nabbed?" Dean offered up.

"Not possible. We've got the whole area warded against everything. Angels, demons, the works," Gabriel said quickly.

"You guys and Mo pop up all the time," Sam pointed out.

"Warded against everything not human except for me, Michael, Cas, Balthy, Mo, Meg, and Crowley. It wasn't easy putting in all those exceptions either," Gabriel huffed. Sam sat up, which made the archangel slide off his stomach and into the V of his legs, and Gabriel twisted around so that his back was pressed against Sam's stomach. Geeze, the archangel is touchy feely today.

"Emma," Cas started. He looked around at everyone in Sam's room, looked at Dean, and then continued. "Emma has not been to Bobby's. He tried calling and did not receive an answer."

"Can you feel her?" Michael's voice was quiet as he looked at the other archangel, and Gabriel lightly tapped his fingers against Sam's knees.

"I keep the connection closed off, you know, because of all those privacy and consent issues. Have you tried looking for her? She's got some of your grace too." Michael shook his head and crossed his arms, and he looked down at the space of floor between his feet.

"I can't sense her. You are closer to her than I am, so you might be able to locate her."

"Alright, I'll give it a try." Gabriel rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes, and the whole room was still as Gabriel did…whatever he was doing. After a minute of silence, Gabriel sighed and opened his eyes. "I got nothing."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"Nothing good, for one. I left a bucket load of grace in Emma, so I should be able to find her anywhere. Unless someone's blocking her."

"She can't block it herself?" Sam asked.

"I was in her soul, Lurch. There's no blocking that out."

"So, what you're saying is, someone's hiding Emma. That means she's been kidnapped or whatever, right?" Gabriel nodded at Dean's question, Cas looked confused, and Michael started pacing at the foot of Sam's bed.

"Why would someone kidnap Emma?" Sam asked. Emma's a great hunter, but she's just a hunter. She's not a big player in all of this, so why take her?

"As leverage. Probably for you, Sam, since they want Dean dead," Cas explained. Right. Leverage. He's starting to feel nauseas again.

"Sonofabitch!"

* * *

**Finis: **Enjoy what little bit of fluff was in this chapter, because there's not gonna be much for a while. Things are about to get serious, well, as serious as they can get. We all know Emma doesn't take torture seriously. So, there was a small bit of happiness, and then everything went downhill. Don't worry, I'll try and update soon so there isn't a lot of suspense. Can't leave Emma hanging, right? Oh, and a big THANK YOU to everyone who read _Gotta Have Faith_! I really appreciate it.


	23. Chapter 23

**TIB: **No big warnings for this chapter.

**Handara:** Michael has…problems. Don't worry, all will be explained eventually. I really like the thought of Sam and Gabriel being adorable together, and then sometimes just wanting to kill one another. Thank you for the review!

**Lexi: **Thanks for the review! Yeah, Emma is not having the best day. I'm really glad you liked the Sam/Gabriel scene! I love writing for those two.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three  
****Friends Call Me Emma**

* * *

**SAM**

"So, what now?" Sam asked. After Dean and the two angels left, Sam and Gabriel got out of bed and got dressed. Which means that Gabriel snapped some clothes onto them and then kissed Sam with a kind of desperation that hurt and left stubble burn around his lips. He didn't have time to argue before Gabriel popped them into the kitchen, and he didn't feel like arguing anyway. Gabriel's just worried about Emma, like Sam is. Sam likes the little hunter. (He thinks of her like a little sister, because he knows so much about her life and sometimes they don't even have to talk to understand each other.)

"Yesterday, on the way back, some crazy chick ran out in front of Baby. When I got to her, all she said was _Winchester_ and _they're coming_ before she passed out. She's still asleep, and I think it's time we woke her up," Dean said with a pointed look at Cas. The angel nodded once and left the kitchen, and Sam stretched his legs out. Gabriel, who's in his usual seat across the table, placed his feet on top of Sam's without taking his eyes off his pacing brother. Michael was walking in tight circuits in front of the fridge with his eyes closed, like he was praying.

"The unconscious redhead, I remember now. That's all she said?"

"That's it."

"What the bloody hell is going on now? I almost had the little bastard." Balthazar was standing in front of Michael, and icy blue eyes swept around the room. "What have you gotten into now?"

"Emma's gone missing," Gabriel explained. Balthazar's eyes narrowed, and he propped his hands on his hips.

"I like the saucy little human. Any idea who took her?"

"I can't stay long, Michael. I'm looking for Meg." Mo sounded breathless, and the demon looked a little ragged.

"You don't think Meg kidnapped Emma?" Sam asked. Mo's dark green eyes moved over to him, and Sam tensed up at the look.

"Emma is missing as well? Since when? I lost track of Meg yesterday," Mo said quickly.

"Emma was last seen this morning," Michael answered.

"Hey, chillax, dude!" Cas returned to the kitchen with the redhead, and he used the loose grip on her arm to gently push her into the chair next to Dean. His brother was sitting at one end of the table, as usual, and Sam was sitting one chair down to his right. So now the redhead was sitting between him and Dean and across from Cas's empty chair. Emma normally sits at the other end of the table, and Michael normally sits next to her even though only one chair is supposed to go at the end. (But Emma isn't here and Michael won't stop pacing.)

"Should I get Bobby?" Cas asked. Dean looked up at the angel and seemed to think it over.

"Yeah, probably should." Cas disappeared with a flutter and was back a few seconds later, with Bobby and Crowley. Bobby took the last empty chair, Emma's chair, and Crowley stood behind him.

"Alright, what's goin' on?" Bobby asked.

"Emma's missing," Dean started.

"And so is Meg," Sam added.

"And crazy red here jumped out in front of the Impala yesterday. Only words were _Winchesters_ and _they're coming_. Ready to explain?" Dean turned to look at the girl, who was looking around at all of them with wide and panicked eyes.

"Okay, this is probably going to sound crazy, but I guess crazy is kinda your thing," she rushed out. She's a human girl, because Dean would've had Cas check to see if she was anything else. If she's never been exposed to the supernatural, then Cas's disappearing act probably freaked her out.

"You have no idea. Start talking," Dean said with a glare that would terrify bigger men. This is just a girl though, who looks scared out of her mind. Sam gave Dean a look before reaching for the girl's shaking hands on top of the table, and she jumped a bit as she turned to look at him.

"My name's Sam and that's my brother, Dean. Yes, he's always an asshole, but we're just worried about our friend. She's missing, and we think you might know what happened to her. So, can you tell me what happened yesterday?"

"I'm Charlie." Color was returning to her cheeks and big green eyes were looking straight into his own.

"Nice to meet you, Charlie. Yesterday?" She licked her dry lips and held onto Sam's hands, and he waited patiently for her to start. Yelling at her and scaring her isn't going to get them any answers.

"I was at work early, because I couldn't sleep, and someone grabbed me. I don't know who. I can't even tell you if it was a guy or a girl. The whole thing is kinda blurry, you know? One minute I'm rocking out and stocking comics, the next I'm standing in some woods. I think I had a vision, which always sounded really cool but it really hurt. Made me empathize with Harry Potter," she said, whispering the last part. Painful visions? That's one he can understand.

"Do you remember what the vision was about?" She snapped out of her thoughts and focused on him again, and her head bobbed between a nod and a shake.

"Kinda, it was really weird. Like I don't think it showed an actual future. It was like a riddle, but with pictures."

"What'd you see?" He doesn't want to push her, but this is something they need to know. It could help them find Emma. And Meg.

"Uh, three people to start with. There was a guy, kinda tall, a little older than you guys. Maybe about his age," she said and pointed to Balthazar. "He was kinda hot, if you're into that, and he had this chill air about him. He was really mad about something, but he didn't look it. It was just something you could tell. Oh, and the other two were women. One with red hair, a little darker than mine, and the other with dark brown hair. They were hot too, but they were crazy. It was like a vibe."

"Anything else?" Sam asked. He had to get everything now while she was lost in the memory of the vision.

"Um, some lines? They're kinda jumbled up and don't make any sense. Okay, here goes: _The three are standing in the house that the brother's built. The walls are painted in red and the floor is made of bone. They're coming!_ Then just _they're coming_ over and over again. Wait, are you two the brothers? Are they coming here?" She looked around like she was getting ready to run, and Sam lightly tightened his grip.

"Don't worry, they can't get in. You're safe here." The girl, Charlie, snorted at that and relaxed into her seat.

"Any theories?" Dean asked.

"My vessel's age and _hot_, that has to be Elijah. The redhead must be Abaddon. She was wearing a pretty redhead when we saw them," Balthazar said. Mo nodded beside him but didn't add anything.

"Who is the third woman?" Michael asked.

"Could be anybody. Could be Meg," Dean said slowly. Mo shook his head and was getting ready to speak when Crowley cleared his throat, and Charlie tensed up again as he walked over to her. Crowley pulled out a cell phone and held it in front of Charlie's face, and Sam leaned around to get a look. There was a picture of Meg taking up the screen, and she was glaring. So, her usual expression.

"Is this the woman you saw?" Crowley asked quickly.

"Nope."

"What about this one?" The picture automatically moved to one of Emma, and she was glaring too.

"Not her either."

"So the mystery woman isn't Meg or Emma. Carry on," Crowley said and walked back to his place behind Bobby's chair.

"I'm more worried about the house part. We thinkin' metaphor?" Bobby asked.

"There's no way they can get through the wards, so yeah," Gabriel answered. Bobby nodded, so he knew about the wards. Why did Bobby know when Sam and Dean didn't?

"Standing in the house that the brother's built. Sounds ominous, if you ask me," Balthazar hummed.

"Walls painted in red and floors made of bone," Mo mumbled.

"Sounds like Hell," Dean huffed. The whole room seemed to freeze at the quiet words, and Dean's eyes widened the smallest bit like he'd just realized what he'd said. "Fuck that, no one's going to Hell."

"You're not wrong, it _does_ sound like Hell, and we are in the middle of a civil war," Crowley mused.

"And when were you planning on telling us?!" Dean snapped off.

"What? Would you have offered to _help_?" Crowley countered.

"Are we talking about the actual Hell? Like fire and brimstone? That place is real?" Charlie whispered.

"Yeah," Sam whispered back.

"This house is your sanctuary, where you go to be safe. If they "stand" in your house, then they are tearing that away. Blood and bone, that's what Hell is built on. They're coming, that's self-explanatory. They're making their move, at last. They are bringing Hell to you, and they've already made the first move. They've taken Emma, and they'll use her to lure you out," Mo said quietly. He was looking down at his heavy unlaced boots as he talked, and Sam could feel the truth in his words. It was finally time. No more waiting.

"Then we'll go get her," Gabriel said quickly. Mo shook his head and finally looked up.

"Elijah doesn't like getting his hands dirty, so Abaddon will be the one with her. They won't leave leverage with a lower demon. Abaddon is a demon now, not an angel, so she can banish all four of you before you get a single finger on Emma. The humans can't go. She'll kill Dean the moment she sees him, and they want Sam for Lucifer."

"Yeah, but they can't get that sonofabitch out because we have the rings," Dean said. Mo shook his head, again, and glanced around at all of them. It was like he was pleading for someone else to speak, but no one else did.

"Hell is in a civil war. There's more chaos than usual. There are places in Hell that I can't go to; there are places that Crowley can't go to, and he's the _King_. Abaddon and Elijah have taken over, and they'll pull both you and Emma down into the Pit. They've got nothing but time. How long do you think it'll take before you break and take the rings off? Thirty years? Fifty? How long will Emma last without Gabriel there to help her endure? How long can Sam last before giving up his ring and letting Lucifer in?"

"You tellin' us to give up?" Dean nearly growled. His eyes were dark and his hands were clenched into fists, and Sam could feel a pulse beating against his temples. It always comes back to torture.

"I'm telling you that it won't be easy. You're only human, and the angels can't help you this time," Mo said quietly.

"What about demons?" Every head in the room turned towards Charlie, and she seemed to fold in on herself before squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin up. "I'm not gonna pretend to know what all of you weirdoes are talking about, but I don't mind stating the obvious. Humans aren't good enough and angels will get tossed out, so that leaves demons. If you have any good ones."

"Crowley? You got any demons you can spare?" Bobby asked and looked back at the demon.

"Spare for a rescue mission that will mostly likely end in their deaths? I do have a few that annoy me."

"Can you make sure they don't kill Emma in the process?"

"I'll do my best. I'll whip up a locator spell while I'm at it. I'll need something of little Gracie's for it to work," Crowley said and looked around at all of them.

"I'll bring it to you," Mo said quickly.

"You better find her," Bobby said and glared up at the King of Hell. Crowley reached down to grab the older hunter's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"Anything for you, love. Don't wait up." Crowley disappeared, and Sam just stared at Bobby. Dean must have been doing the same thing, because Bobby turned back around to glare at both of them.

"_Crowley?!_" Yep, that was definitely Dean.

"We got more important things to worry about that my personal life, ya idjit. Someone go get something of Emma's for the demon boy to take to Crowley." Sam quickly scrambled out of his seat and muttered something about grabbing one of her shirts, and he quickly made his way up the stairs. He was moving things around in Emma's closet when he felt eyes on him, and he didn't even have to turn around to see who it was. He knows that heavy gaze.

"We were happy last night, this morning, and now Emma's probably getting tortured." _Because of me_. He didn't say the last part out loud, but he could feel it. They wanted him to come out of his _sanctuary_ so they could get the ring off his neck and stuff Lucifer down his throat.

"She's tougher than she looks," Gabriel said quietly. Sam pulled a white shirt off a hanger and looked down at it. It had "Free Hugs" written across it in rainbow letters; it was the shirt she wore when they left to go get voodoo tattoos. That morning, before she put it on, she showered with him in the room and talked about her Gabriel dream and apologized for her panic attack after he pushed her about what happened in Hell. It was the same shirt he'd helped her put on after she got her tattoos and the shirt he held between his fingers as they drove back home.

"This one should work," he said and turned around. Gabriel just looked up at him and then let his eyes run over the shirt he was holding.

"She likes that one because no one expects to find weapons under a free hugs shirt." Yeah, that sounded like Emma. Soft little Emma, who has an unhealthy addiction to chocolate and playing with people's hair. Soft little Emma, who survived two hundred years of torture in Hell.

"We'll get her back."

"Damn right we will. Now, come on, Samsquatch. Mo needs to hit the road." Sam nodded and followed Gabriel back to the kitchen, and Mo accepted the shirt with a quiet thank-you before disappearing. Only angels and humans were left now, and they were all useless at the moment.

"I need a drink," Dean said and stalked off. Cas hurried after him, probably to make sure Dean didn't accidentally drown himself, and Sam sat back down across from Gabriel. Bobby and Charlie were still sitting at the table, and Balthazar and Michael were talking quietly next to the fridge.

"So, who wants to explain just what the hell is going on? Because I feel like I've been transported to a different reality. A not-nice reality," Charlie said and leaned her elbows on the table. They'll probably need to keep her safe, because who knows where the vision came from? And what if whoever kidnapped her comes back? She deserves to know what she's been dropped into. Sam exchanged a look with Bobby, because where do they start?

"Well, once upon a time, two idiotic brothers…" Letting Gabriel explain might not be the smartest thing, but Sam can correct him when he messes up.

**EMMA**

"Holy fuckaroni, what'd the hell did you do to my head?" Emma groaned and tried to stretch out the kinks in her body. It didn't work because, of course, she's tied to a chair. Her wrists are tied up behind her and her ankles are tied together, and that's some really shoddy work. So, she's not really tied up to keep her from running. She's probably just tied up because that's the cliché bad guy thing to do. Gotta love the traditionalists.

"I apologize for the rough treatment, but I couldn't take the chance of you praying. Not when we've waited so long to get one of you alone. I was hoping for one of the brothers, but I have a feeling that you'll do." The voice was deep and smooth, and Emma might've liked the sound of it if she wasn't tied up with a pounding headache. She forced her eyes to open and take a look around, and it's a pretty standard room. Basement, probably. Cement walls, cement floor, and a moldy smell. She looked at the owner of the voice and let out a low whistle.

"You know, if you weren't gearing up to torture me, we could've had some fun," she grinned. He's tall and wearing a dark suit that fits him in just the right way, and his dark brown hair is thick enough to really grab onto. Then there's the eyes, a lighter brown than hers, like the color of hot chocolate.

"It looks as if you're already taken." A long finger traced up the side of her neck, where her monstrous hickey is, and she felt herself flush. Right. Before she was knocked unconscious and kidnapped, she had what was probably the best sex of her life. And possibly the last.

"Don't worry, darlin', I don't kiss and tell." She kept smiling even when a hand twisted in her hair and forced her head back, and those calm eyes of his flashed with suppressed anger. "So, whose name will I be screaming later?"

"I'm Elijah. You've heard of me?" Aw, shit! She just had to go and get kidnapped by the big bad. Next time, she'll wait for Gabriel if she needs chocolate.

"Oh, I've heard a thing or two. Look, if you're holding me for leverage, it's not going to work. Yeah, the Winchesters like me alright, but not enough to come after me. They won't risk each other. It's part of that whole codependency thing they have going on, you know?" The sad part? There's a small piece of her that believes that. Sam and Dean won't risk their lives to come save her, because they know that these dudes want Dean dead and Sam high on demon blood while he waits for Luci.

"Will the angels leave you here as well? Even after you saved their brother?" Okay, so he knows a lot. More than what she thought he'd know. His hand is still tangled in her hair, and the other one is pressed lightly against the top of her chest. Right under the curve of her throat.

"Well, I did drag him down into Hell to get tortured. Between you and me, they're not big fans of me. They just feel like they owe me for keeping Gabriel alive, so they let me live. I seriously doubt they'll be in the cavalry." That part isn't true. Gabriel is kinda like a part of her, what with the whole grace still inside her soul thing, and her and Michael are…something. She's not so sure about Cas and Balthazar. Yeah, they like her well enough, but enough to risk their angelic hides to save her? Then again, Gabriel and Michael shouldn't be willing to come to her rescue either. They're not ready to stand against Elijah yet. Oh, she is so fucked.

"It's a good thing I wasn't counting on them to come rescue you then."

"Wait, what?" Then why has she been kidnapped? "Is this about the ring? Because I only have one."

"Ah, yes, the Horseman's rings. I don't want them either. We only spread that rumor amongst the minions in the hopes that the disciples would kill you and leave the angels trapped. We would have resurrected Sam, of course."

"Did you really just use the word minions? And you don't want the rings to get Lucifer?" Her mind is so jumbled right now. She went up against that disciple bitch for nothing?

"It's what Abaddon calls them, and I'm afraid the term has stuck. No, we have other means of releasing Lucifer, but not until the time is right. Ah, yes, right on schedule. Crowley, I'm sure you remember him, is trying to locate you now. He'll be able to, because I'll let him, and he'll send some of his demons after you. The angels and humans are rash, but not stupid. They won't come for you, because the risk is too high. Instead they will send Asmodeus. He's a friend of yours, yes?"

"Can demons have friends?" Of course the humans and angels won't risk themselves to save her, which is what she wants. She doesn't have any illusions of grandeur. In the grand scheme of things, she's a footnote. She's that human that housed an archangel for a bit, and that's all. Sam and Dean? They're show runners, along with the angels.

"Crowley will be too busy with the Civil War in Hell, my demons are winning and taking over more territory, so he will send Asmodeus. He's the strongest demon left, but he's still not a match for me. Or Abaddon. The angels and humans will stay together, to wait out the anticipation. Just like I'd hoped."

"Yeah, and there's strength in numbers," Emma pointed out. Elijah frowned down at her and slowly straightened up. He walked around the chair she was in and settled his hands on her shoulders, and Emma tried not to buck out of the strong hold.

"Did you know the entirety of the Singer-Winchester land is warded against the supernatural? With small exceptions for their allies, of course. No supernatural creatures can cross the property lines, so how do you attack a sanctuary?"

"With hugs and kisses?" His grip tightened so much, with just the right amount of pressure and at the right angle, that her right collarbone snapped. She quickly cut off her scream and looked around the room with watery eyes.

"Loopholes, Emmaline. It's warded against the supernatural. Where's the loophole?" He ground the heel of his hand against her broken collarbone, and Emma fought to breathe against the pain. Loophole for the supernatural? Something…natural? No, something not super. Something ordinary.

"Humans."

"It's good to know that you're able to think under pressure. Not many humans can. It's not their fault they were made so fragile, but I do admire the strength of some of you."

"You're gonna send humans after the Winchesters? Kinda stupid, don't you think? I mean, they kill monsters for a living."

"True, but they won't be expecting a _human_ attack. They'll be so worried about their missing companion, trying not to think about what kind of tortures are befalling you, that their guards will be down. By the time they realize, it will be too late. No demons to save them because their demon allies will be here, attempting to rescue you, and the angels will be banished."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Tears were freely falling down her cheeks from the burning pain coming from her broken bone, and she let her head fall back against the chair. Elijah bent down, with a grip still on her shoulders, and placed his lips right next to her ear.

"Think, Emmaline. Why would I tell you all of this?" The words were spoken into her ear, with his lips brushing the shell.

"Because I'm not here to be tortured for information, for the ring, or for leverage. I'm here to be a…a…"

"Go ahead and say it. Why are you here, Emmaline?" Why does he have to keep using her whole name? She hates that name, even more than she hates being called Gracie.

"To be a distraction." They don't have a reason to keep her alive, because Mo and maybe some other demons are gonna come for her anyway. And while Mo is here helping her, humans are going to attack her home.

"Very good. Abaddon is tied up at the moment, but she'll come down to meet you soon. She hasn't had the chance to play with a human in a long time, and I think demons are starting to bore her. Don't worry, I'll bring someone to keep you company until she returns."

"Done with me already? Stamina not what it used to be?" She smirked through the itchy tear tracks and watched the way that Elijah smiled at her as he walked back in front of her. He knelt down and braced his hands against her knees, and his light colored eyes stared up into hers.

"I like you, Emmaline. It's a shame that you have to die this way. You deserve better." If she wasn't tied up with a broken collarbone, she might actually believe him. Because he looks serious, like he means every word.

"Gabriel said that you were honorable. There ain't much honor in this," she said and glanced down at herself. Elijah sighed and rubbed his hands across her knees, and there was something in his eyes that she couldn't understand.

"I find all this distasteful, but I will do whatever is necessary."

"For your son, right?" His eyes darkened and narrowed, and Emma's knees creaked under his hands. Not enough to crack bone, but enough to make her gasp from the pain.

"My son was innocent, and they turned him into the monster that they accused him of being. I don't know what Gabriel has done to him all these years, and I want him safe. If that means I must kill innocent humans, then so be it. You should have left the Winchesters alone, Emmaline."

"Friends call me Emma." His hands loosened their hold, and her poor knees cried in relief. Or maybe that's just her crying. Whatever. Elijah's eyes held hers, as if he was trying to see into her head, and Emma just looked right back. She kinda gets it. She read parts of what went down back then. Gabriel and other angels were ordered to kill Simon, and he seemed okay in the beginning. The angels would try to kill him, and he'd keep coming back. Over and over again. Eventually, the kid snapped. Started fighting back and killing everything. Elijah is worried about his son and wants him back, just like any other parent. The only difference is that he's willing to kill a whole slew of people to get his kid back, including her.

"Goodbye, Emma." He stood up in one fluid movement and stalked over to the door in the room, and Emma watched until he disappeared. Great. She's gonna be a plaything for a demon that was once an angel created for destruction. She'd been hoping that her next death would be less bloody than the first one, and much later on, but she should've known something like this would happen. Oh well, it could be worse. At least this time there's no one hiding out in her soul and going through all the pain with her. Her thoughts were cut off as the door opened again, and two unfamiliar men (probably demons) tossed a bloody body into the room. The small figure moaned at the impact and rolled to its back, and Emma craned her neck with a painful hiss to see who it was.

"Meg?" Bloodshot brown eyes met hers, and Meg coughed up a giant glob of blood.

"Hi, Gracie. Did ya miss me?"

**SAM**

"So, pretty much every nightmare a kid can have is real?" Charlie asked.

"And then some," Gabriel agreed. Michael and Balthazar are still in the kitchen, but the three humans and one archangel have moved into the living room. Dean and Cas are still off somewhere, and Sam's not going to be the one that goes looking for them.

"And there was an apocalypse, like with the Devil and everything, that you and your brother stopped?" Charlie was looking around Gabriel at him, and Sam slowly nodded his head. He's on one end of the couch, Gabriel is in the middle, and Charlie is sitting at the other end.

"Uh, yeah, but we had help," Sam said quickly.

"Damn right ya did," Bobby huffed from his recliner.

"I helped too," Gabriel added.

"By getting killed. Cas, the other angel, helped too," Sam said.

"I did more than get killed. I told you how to open the Cage," Gabriel said and crossed his arms.

"And the dark haired angel in the kitchen, with a really impressive scowl, tried to end the world? But now he's a good guy?"

"Change of heart?" Sam tried. Gabriel snorted, but Sam just ignored him.

"Man, this is all so weird," Charlie huffed and leaned back against the couch.

"You don't even know the half of it." Sam's head snapped up as Dean walked into the room, and his brother eased himself into his usual recliner. Cas sat down on the arm and placed a steadying hand on Dean's shoulder, so it looks like the angel got Dean to stop drinking. It's a Christmas miracle.

"So, do you kill zombies with a headshot?" The three hunters all turned to look at her, and the two angels just looked on with amusement (Gabriel) and confusion (Cas). It's not the most family friendly conversation, but maybe it'll keep them from thinking about Emma.

"_Mo will save you, Emma, don't worry. When you get back, Gabriel will hand bake all the muffins you want and we'll spend an entire day cuddling. Then when we finally wake up, I've got a present for you. It's pink, so I know you'll like it. You just gotta come home first."_

* * *

**Finis:** So, we now know where Emma is and who's got her, and the big plan is starting to come together. Writing these next few chapters was so hard, because I really love my fluff, but they're essential for the plot. If you want to read some elaboration on what happened to Charlie, read the side story, _Gotta Have Faith_.


	24. Chapter 24

**TIB: **No warnings for this one.

**BrySt1: **Thank you for the review! I'm so glad you like Emma! She's definitely a fun OC to write.

**Lexi:** Haha, I'm glad you liked the plot twist! It took a little while to update, but I'm still writing when I can. Thanks for the review!

**Treeni:** I'm happy you like my writing! It keeps me from getting bored, so I hope it kept you occupied and entertained for a little while. A story where Dean is a seahorse? I'm definitely gonna read it! I've saved it to my favorites and will read it as soon as I have some free time. Thanks for the rec and review!

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**Chapter Twenty-Four  
****A Realist**

* * *

**ELIJAH**

"We don't need the human," Abaddon drawled and looked across at him. The human girl, Emmaline, was still unconscious in the basement below them. When one of their scouts reported that she'd been spotted leaving the property lines, alone, it was an opportunity that couldn't be passed up.

"No, we don't need her, but she'll serve as a good distraction. We're sending in humans, and they'll be no match against a demon," Elijah sighed. He doesn't like this, but it has to be done. A means to an end.

"And you're so sure that they'll send demons after their little pet?" Elijah wanted to correct his sister, because the human in their basement is no mere pet for the Winchesters. Those two are suspicious and distrustful of everyone, but they let Emmaline in. Oh, he's heard about the human from some of their minions. A human that traded her soul for her little sister's life and spent two centuries on the rack; a human that was freed from the Pit because of the archangel hiding in her soul. _Gabriel_. Of all the angels, Elijah hates Gabriel the most. The angel who tortured his son and drove him to madness.

"They're too smart to send in the angels or humans," was Elijah's answer.

"You really think they're that smart?" Abaddon's green eyes were bright with laughter, but she can mock him all she wants. Elijah has always believed that humans are capable of great things, that's why he followed his Father's orders and loved them. It's one of the reasons why he hates Lucifer so much, but Lucifer offered him what the others wouldn't. Freedom.

"They'll send Mo and maybe a few others. You should gather a few more of our minions." Abaddon nodded and stood up, and she looked down at him before going.

"And when I'm done?"

"The human is all yours."

**SIMON**

"_Stop this, Simon." The voice is quiet and screams at him, and he looks away from the fire at his feet to the man behind him. His golden curls fall around his pale face, and the fire lights up his golden eyes like a burning sunset. _

"_Why? This is what you wanted, is it not? You wanted to kill the great monster, so a monster I have become. Listen to them, uncle. Are they crying out for you? Begging you to save them like I once did?"_

"_Yes, Simon, I can hear their prayers." His burning eyes look sad, and Simon's eyes are alight with the madness that he put there. His uncle, an angel, has driven him to this. Has turned him into this creature. _

"_Yet you stand there and watch them as they burn. I was good, uncle. I was __**GOOD**__!" His roar makes the ground shake and the fire swirls around the village. The people run and scream as the fire consumes them, but he does not stop. He will not stop until they are all dead. They should thank him. He's saving them from this world. _

"_I know that now, Simon. I was wrong. Let me help you."_

"_Help me? You? Who killed his own children at his brother's command? You? Who killed all that was good in me?" The golden eyes are so dull, just like the light that shines around him, but Simon feels no pity for this broken angel. Not when he's so broken himself. _

"_I can fix this."_

"_No, Gabriel. It is too late for salvation." With that, he walks into the fire._

Simon woke up choking on a scream as the fire engulfed him, and strong arms locked around his body as he tried to run. He could hear them screaming, the whole village, as he set them on fire. Men, women, and children all trapped in a wall of fire and screaming for help. Help that would never come. He fought to get free, from the arms holding him and from the feeling of so much anger freezing his lungs.

"Simon! Simon! It's okay! You're awake! You're okay! Simon!" His father was yelling in his ear, but he could still feel the fire. Spreading over his arms and up his legs, buried in the pit of his stomach and licking at his eyes.

"Dad?" He stopped struggling and slumped back against his dad, and a hand smoothed down his hair and another one swiped across his chest.

"Jesus, kid, what was that?"

"Nightmare. It was just a nightmare," he pushed out. It still hurt to breathe, but he had to get himself under control. It was just a nightmare. A really vivid and freaky nightmare, but still just a nightmare.

"Simon, sweetie, are you okay?" The bed dipped beside him as his mom joined them, and he felt a wet washcloth press against his forehead. He turned in his dad's arms to press his face against his mom's shoulder, and he felt her hands sweeping across his back as she rocked him. He was surrounded by his parents, and he'll be okay. So what if the guy from his other really weird dream was there? It was still just a nightmare.

**ADAM**

"Are you still going at it?" Adam asked. He was sitting cross legged on top of the bar while Ash beat his laptop and swore under his breath, and Adam figured that was probably answer enough. "You need to get out more. What about Casey Renner's Heaven? The beach one that's clothing optional. You liked that one, right?"

"We've got the rest of eternity to check out naked babes. This is more important," Ash said and slapped the screen.

"More important than topless girls?"

"How can you not to be worried about this, man? You know better than most just how messed up the angels are. They're up to something, I can tell." Adam sighed and dropped his elbows onto his thighs and really thought it over. This has been bugging Ash for a while now, because Ash isn't used to not getting answers.

"It wouldn't surprise me if they're up to something, but we don't have to get involved. Let the angels deal with their shit on their own. If we get mixed up in it, bad shit will happen to us. So let's just not get mixed up in it."

"Nah, man, I can't do that. I can feel it, in my gut, that something's not right. Something's really not right, and it's gonna involve us all." Adam brought both palms down onto the bar and swung himself around, and he waited until he was standing on the ground before turning to Ash.

"Alright, but you're on your own. I'm gonna go lay down on a beach and work on my tan."

"Adam!" He paused at the door to the Roadhouse and looked over his shoulder, and Ash's fuzzy eyes met his. "Be careful out there."

"Careful's my middle name."

**ELIJAH**

Emmaline Grace Motley was nothing like he expected. He expected either extreme anger, which would have been reasonable considering the circumstances, or extreme fear. Also reasonable. What he got was a human that looked him dead in the eye and spoke to him like she didn't care if she lived or died. It wasn't because she had no self-worth, he didn't sense that in her, it was more like she was…what was the word again? A realist. She looked at her situation, looked at her options, and adjusted accordingly. He could see why the Winchesters kept her around when they trusted so few. She wasn't anything special, just another human, but there was a calm strength in her dark eyes. Like she was ready to face, and accept, whatever this horrible life threw at her. She really doesn't deserve what Abaddon is going to do to her.

"Did you have fun with the pretty human?" Eve was back and sitting in one of the nicer chairs in the sitting area, and Elijah sat down on the couch next to her.

"She was interesting, but she'll cease to matter soon. Have you been behaving?" He knows how much she hates reigning her children in; Eve wants them to run free, and they will. It's another thing that Elijah isn't happy about, but it's out of his control. He's a pawn in all of this; he's not stupid enough to believe otherwise. Maybe he's a realist too.

"Of course I have. Has Raphael found his hiding brother yet?" Ah, yes, another important puzzle piece in this grand scheme.

"He has. He's keeping him somewhere safe for the moment, until the time is right."

"Will it be the right time soon?" Eve's impatience colored her words, and Elijah looked over at her. She was human once, before the angels ruined her. He remembers her back when she was still innocent and trusting, before Lucifer decided to show them all how flawed humans are. Elijah has always found it ironic that the first revealed human flaw was trust, not disobedience.

"Very soon. Are you prepared to do your part?" Her full lips pinched into a thin line as she nodded, and she looked down at the way her fingers twisted together in her lap.

"I will do what needs to be done. You better bring him home, Elijah. I'm sacrificing my children for our sweet boy, and if you fail—"

"I won't." He reached across the small space to grab her twitching hands, and dark burning eyes met his. "I'll bring our son home."

**MO**

"I have a feeling that this a trap," he said and tapped his fingers across the big desk. Crowley glanced up at him, and Mo looked down into the King's dark eyes.

"How very observant of you," Crowley murmured. The map that was once spread out across the desk was ash now, except for a very small section that showed where Emma was being held. Two archangels, who both had a little bit of grace inside the small hunter, couldn't find her. Crowley shouldn't have been able to locate her, not so easily, unless they wanted her to be a found. So, a trap. "Getting cold feet, Prince Mo?"

"Don't call me that, and no. I'll get Emma out. It's the least that she deserves." His fingers ran the length of the desk and across the small grooves cut into it. You can't feel things like this outside of a human vessel. You can't feel anything physical as light or smoke.

"Are you still beating yourself up over Emma's torture? You never even laid a hand on her, except for all the petting. Oh, is that it? Wishing you had saved her and redeemed yourself in your brothers' eyes?" He looked up enough to glare at the younger demon and pushed his knuckles against the hard wood.

"I don't need redemption from them. They have just as much blood on their hands as I do." He thought, once, that he was lesser than his brothers. Maybe he is, since he let Lucifer burn his grace away and turn him into a demon. They're not untouched though. Mo can see it sometimes, in the dark look that haunts Michael's eyes and the heavy slump of his shoulders. Can see it in the way that Gabriel's grace has dimmed to a mere shadow of its former light.

"Hmm, Daddy then? Because last I heard, He's left the building for good."

"She didn't deserve what happened to her in Hell."

"A lot of souls don't deserve what happens to them in Hell. What makes her any more special than the rest of them?"

"Nothing," was his whispered answer. Emma was just another human who'd been tortured in the Pit. Could he sense Gabriel's grace in the Pit? Is that why he kept going back to her?

"You called, sir?" Mo looked over at the six demons, his cavalry, and held in a sigh. He's gone up against greater odds with less, but he still has a bad feeling about this.

"Go with Asmodeus and do whatever he tells you. If any of you live, I'll reward you," Crowley said with dismissive wave of his hand. Live? Asmodeus doubts they'll even make a useful distraction.

"Follow me."

* * *

**Finis: **First off, sorry for the late update! Finals are less than a month away now, so I'm cramming to finish my last minute papers and presentations. Once finals are over, I'll have more time to do things that I actually enjoy. Like writing fanfiction.

Elijah's first POV was before he talked to Emma, and his second POV was right after he talked to her. I thought it'd be nice to see things from both sides of that little meeting. Simon's POV was mostly a repeat of the other Simon POVs, but I promise it's all plot relevant. Adam's

POV was just because I felt like it this time, but Mo's part was very plot relevant so I feel like it balances a little.

I'll try to post again soon, because the next chapter goes back to Emma and Sam. Big stuff happening. Real big.

And I don't say this enough but…THANK YOU to everyone reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**TIB: **A little torture in this chapter. I'm sure I've written worse, but I still want to give a warning.

**Lexi: **Thanks for the good luck! I'm definitely going to need it. I'm going to update as much as I can, because I love this story, so no worries. And thank you for the review!

**aLoggedInReader: **Thank you for the review! I'm actually a fan of yours, so you reading my story and liking it is like Christmas coming early. Thanks for reading!

**Treeni: **I know I already replied to your reviews, but I wanted to say thank-you one more time!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five  
****I Expected More Fire**

* * *

**EMMA**

"Jesus, Meg, what'd they do to you?"

"Gave me a nice relaxing massage and mani-pedi, what's it look like?" It's good to know that Meg can still snark so hard with her body pulverized to a pulp.

"Dumb question, got it. Hold on just a minute," Emma said and straightened her shoulders. The move pulled at her broken collarbone, but she's gotta ignore that little ache for a moment. Whoever tied her up wasn't worried about her getting free, because the ropes aren't very tight. Just a few painful wiggles, enough chafing to get some blood to slick the way, and she's free. Her collarbone screamed at her as she reached down to get the ropes off her ankles, as if to remind her that she's not in tip-top condition. Like she's forgotten? She wrestled the ropes off with a few grunts and some sweat (possibly tears), and she almost sagged in relief once she was through.

"What are you up to, Gracie?" Meg had one eye open as Emma shuffled over to her, and she slowly lowered herself down to kneel next to the demon. Meg's been flayed open all over; Emma can see the deep cuts still bleeding through all the rips in her clothes, and the demon's breath rattles.

"Can't you smoke out?" Even with one eye, Meg can glare with the best of them. What's the glare for anyway? It's a valid question.

"Whole place is warded. No smoking out. No outgoing prayers either." Her lips curved the tiniest bit, and Emma watched as a bead of blood welled up on her bottom lip. It's a good thing she hasn't bothered with praying then. She didn't really see the point since she has no idea where she is.

"They really did a number on you, huh?"

"Abaddon did, and why do you care?" That is a really good question.

"Aw, c'mon, Meggie. I thought we bonded down in the Pit. You know, I screamed, you wore my eyeballs as earrings. We had good times." Meg's answering laugh was wet, and something pushed out through the shredded skin of her stomach.

"Always liked you. All the others just whined and asked, why me? Not you. Remember that time I was counting how many times I could wrap your small intestine around your throat before you stopped breathing?"

"Yeah, I kept shouting out strangled numbers to fuck you up. Made you lose count before the lights went out." It's not exactly a pleasant memory, but Meg is smiling with bloody lips so whatever.

"I lasted two hundred and seventy-eight years in the Pit. Not because I'm a saint or _pure_, or something stupidly heroic, but to piss Crowley off. I sold my soul to him when I was thirteen, and he gave me ten years of freedom. I still hate him."

"Thirteen?" Why would a kid sell their soul?

"My parents tried to marry me off to some old fuck with greasy fingers. Imagine my surprise when a weary traveler offered me freedom from it all. He left out the part about getting chewed on by a Hellhound and tortured in the Pit. I stayed on the rack to spite him."

"Beats my record," Emma shrugged. Just how old is Meg? How long has it been, in Earth years, since she was human?

"And I didn't even need an archangel to do it." Meg's weak laugh made her cough, and more blood oozed out of her. Along with some other things.

"Take it easy, okay? Cavalry should be here soon." Or not, but sometimes it's okay to lie in desperate situations. Emma's not even sure why she's trying to be nice to Meg, since the demon did torture her pretty extensively, but maybe that's why. Meg, like Mo and Gabriel, has seen her at her absolute worst. Meg has put her at her worst. No one has really seen her that exposed before, except for the demons that tortured her in Hell.

"Abaddon's coming, she'll be here in a minute. Do me a favor, Gracie?"

"Want me to write your eulogy?" Meg's grin was all bloody teeth, and Emma smiled down at her.

"Keep your smart mouth shut for once and don't piss off the crazy demon."

"Now where's the fun in that?" She can hear light footsteps outside of the door, the click of heels. So, the demon that's gonna kill her is finally here. Good, because her knees are getting sore from kneeling on the cement floor.

"River." Emma looked away from the door and down at Meg's bloody face, but the demon's eye is closed now.

"What?"

"Crowley's the only one that knows, and I don't want to die with him as the only one that knows. My real name, it's River le Thechare."

"Why are you—" The door flew open before Emma could finish her question, and she watched as the redhead that tricked her in the first place walked into the room. The plain jeans and sweater she'd been wearing on the side of the road was gone, and the new clothes fit her much better. Literally. The black tank top hugged her curves and had a cartoon devil on it, the dark jeans looked painted on, and the red heels matched her lipstick and hair. Emma's gotta hand it to the angel-turned-demon, she really knows how to color coordinate.

"Move. I need to finish up with Meg before we get acquainted." Emma listened to her knees pop as she stood up, and she was just getting ready to step out of the way, until she stopped. River le Thechare. Sounds pretty.

"You didn't say the magic word," Emma grinned. The demon's green eyes lit up as she smiled, and Emma barely had time to brace herself before the woman's fingers flicked. Emma stayed right where she was, and Abaddon tilted her head as she looked at her. "About that, demon mojo doesn't work on me. You're gonna have to dirty up those pretty nails if you wanna move me."

"I can't wait to hear you scream," Abaddon whispered just as her knuckles crashed against Emma's cheek. She went flying through the air and bounced off the wall, and she groaned as she fell to the ground. She fell at just the right angle to lock her eyes on Meg, and the demon looked back at her.

"_Don't be stupid,"_ Meg mouthed. Abaddon knelt beside her, and Meg looked away from Emma and up at the other demon. The demon was holding onto a long silver blade, and green eyes flicked over to where Emma was still laying.

"It's my angel blade. Pretty, isn't it? It's good for killing all sorts of things, including angels. And demons."

"I gotta get me one of those then." Abaddon quirked a brow before looking down at Meg, and she ran her red tipped fingers through her bloody hair.

"That one's going to be amusing for a little while, hmm? I'm sorry you won't be here to see it." The long silver blade pushed through Meg's chest, and the demon didn't make a sound as her body pulsed with light before falling still. Well, there's another nightmare to add to her nightly queue.

"Kinda anticlimactic. I'd give it a four, and that's pushing it." Green eyes snapped to hers, and…right. She was supposed to keep her smart mouth shut, but what's the point? She's gonna die either way. Might as well go out with some sass. Abaddon wrapped the length of her hair around her fist, and Emma hissed as the broken pieces of her collarbone grated together. Abaddon drug her across the room, over Meg's bloody and still warm body, and back to the chair she was originally in. She was slammed into the old wooden thing, and she tipped her head back to smile at the overly excited demon.

"I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart," the demon cooed as she gripped her chin.

"And I'm gonna enjoy getting blood on those fabulous shoes." And so the torture begins.

**SAM**

"I can't just leave, can I?" Charlie was rolling the bottom of her shirt between her fingers, and her red hair was shielding her face.

"You could, if you wanted to. Go back to whatever boring life you had. Maybe whoever kidnapped you won't come back, but I doubt it. Someone chose you for that vision for a reason, kiddo, and there's no guarantee they won't come back," Gabriel said quietly.

"We can't guarantee you'll be safe with us either, but you'll be more prepared," Sam added. Dean snorted, but whatever. They're having an off day, but everything will be okay. Mo will bring Emma back, and things will go back to as normal as they ever get.

"You'll teach me how to be a hunter? Because I already know how to shoot."

"One thing at a time, red." Charlie looked up to glare at Dean, but his brother just smiled like everything was okay in the world. Which means that he's actually really worried.

"Wouldn't hurt to teach her a few things," Bobby mumbled.

"Uh, guys?" Sam looked over and down at Gabriel, and the archangel was rubbing his fingers against his temples. "Be right back."

"He's upstairs," Cas said quietly. Sam was still looking at the empty space on the couch where Gabriel just was, and Charlie was blinking at the spot.

"What are you waiting for? Go see what's wrong with the drama queen now." Sam turned to glare at Dean, and Dean returned the look this time. Later, after everything has calmed down, they're going to have a long talk about…everything. Without saying a word, Sam left the living room and hurried up the stairs. He looked in Emma's room first, but it was empty. His room then. Gabriel was sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed under him, and still rubbing his temples.

"Gabriel?"

"I can't locate her, but I can _feel_ her. It's like being in her soul again," Gabriel groaned and flopped back against the bed.

"You can feel Emma? Is she okay?" Sam moved onto the bed next to the archangel, but Gabriel kept his eyes closed. He looked like Sam did whenever he got a migraine, with the constant rubbing and pinched expression.

"Not okay. Alive, pissed off, and scared. Kinda like in the Pit," Gabriel huffed.

"Is she saying anything?" Gabriel shook his head, and Sam looked down at his lap. So, Gabriel could feel Emma again. Was she praying for him? Or was this just a side effect from having Gabriel's grace in her soul?

"No, wait, she's talking now." Gabriel blindly reached out, found Sam's thigh, and squeezed.

"What's she saying?" His eyes were moving rapidly and his grip was really starting to hurt, but Sam kept quiet. Emma might be able to tell them something useful, like where she is.

"Distraction? For what?" Hazy golden eyes opened, and Sam had just enough time to see the confusion in them before light filled the room and Gabriel's yell echoed in his ears. He was…gone. Like he'd been banished.

"Dean!" By the time he made it back to the living room, it was too late. Bobby was still in his recliner, two bullet holes over his chest. Charlie was slumped over the arm of the couch, a single shot to her chest. Dean was laying in the center of the room, face down, and there was a small bit of blood coming out from under his still body.

"Say goodbye, Sam." Four men were standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, all with weapons drawn. They were warded against the supernatural, so, humans? Three shots, over his heart, and Sam hit his knees. He really hates dying.

**EMMA**

"That the best you got?" Emma asked after spitting out a chunk of blood. She's pretty sure that a piece of her cheek was mixed in with that one. Abaddon grabbed her throat and a belt loop to throw her across the room, and Emma listened to her spine complain at the impact. It's not broken though, so there's that. She slid down the wall and hit the ground, and she cried out as the bad angle pushed at her fibula right above her ankle. Okay, not a break, but pretty close. Then again, she's going to die anyway. What's a few broken bones when she's just going to check out soon?

"Do you ever shut up?" Abaddon grabbed her ankle, thankfully not the one that's throbbing, and yanked her halfway across the room. She's only a few feet away from Meg's dead meat suit. The demon dropped down to straddle her, and Emma tried to fight back as she wrestled her wrists together. She used the rope from earlier to retie her wrists, but Emma didn't have it in her to fight as much. Abaddon's been using her as a punching bag, and her broken collarbone doesn't help matters much.

"I'm a screamer, baby," Emma got out before Abaddon worked another scream out of her. Red nails pushed against her jeans and scratched at her leg, and Emma bucked as the demon grabbed the knife still tucked into her ankle holster. Yeah, imagine Emma's surprise when she realized she still had all of her weapons. The only downside is that none of her weapons will have any effect on demons. Except maybe piss them off.

"Have humans gotten any more resilient over the years? How long will it take before your body gives out? How many cuts?" Emma's own knife dug down into her arm, and she sucked in a breath at the thin pain. The next little cut drug across her sternum, the one after just under her left knee, and so on. Okay, death by a thousand cuts. She had a demon try this out once. Not so much with the slicing off of body parts but actual cuts, to see how long it would take for her to bleed out. It was one of the nicer methods.

"Oh, I dunno, I think it takes a hundred and eighty three licks to get to the center of a tootsie pop," she groaned out.

"Shh, I'm busy," Abaddon said and pulled the blade across the curve of a rib. That one stung. Emma let her head fall back, ignored the tears that were coming constantly now, and tried not to think about the tiny deep cuts popping up all over her body. It'll take her hours to die this way.

"_Hey, Gabriel? I know you can't hear me or anything, so I'm not even sure why I'm doing this…Fuck, Gabriel, it hurts. Do you think I'll go back to Hell when I die? Because I'm definitely going to die. Slowly. Very slowly. If I go to Hell, just leave me down there, because things are about to get crazy topside and you don't need to waste time on a soul in Hell. Maybe afterwards you can spring me, just for old time's sake."_

"Not so mouthy now, are you? Come on, let me hear your pretty screams." The knife pushed down into the meat of her thigh, somehow missed all the important arteries, and was yanked back out as Emma screamed. The bloody blade traced across her cheek, cutting a line just under the bone, and Emma panted out against the pain as her tears burned against the open cut.

"_This Abaddon bitch is crazy, just a heads up. Hey, Gabriel? Look after Sam and Dean, okay? Don't let them do anything too stupid. Protect them. Oh, before I got hunter-napped, I had a close encounter with your big bro. Can you tell him that I'm sorry for taking his innocence and thanks for…well, for everything, I guess. All this drama and just for a stupid distraction. I don't want the distraction part in my eulogy, okay? Thanks, Gabriel."_

"The cavalry is here. Wait here while I go have a word with an old friend." Emma's hands were stretched above her head, tied up, palms facing the ceiling. Abaddon drove the knife into her palm, stayed long enough to listen to one more scream, and then disappeared.

Emma forced down the bile crawling up her throat and tried to take in slow breaths. Hyperventilating and passing out will not save her. If the cavalry is here, then there might be enough chaos going on upstairs for her to slip out. She's got the anti-detection symbols. If she gets out, they shouldn't be able to find her. Okay, time to focus on the big picture. The knife is in her right hand, and the ropes are too tight for her wiggle out of. But she can twist just enough to get the fingers of her left hand on the blade. It's gonna slice her fingers up and the nerves of her right hand are already shot, but big picture. Get free and get out. She can do this.

A few minutes later, she was choking back sobs and shaking all over, but she got the knife out. Now all she has to do is saw at the ropes until they pop free. If she nicks her wrist once or twenty times, that's just something else for her to deal with. The ropes were finally falling off when the door opened again, and Emma gripped the knife in her left hand. It won't kill a demon, but it'll piss them off. Dark green eyes swept around the room, and Emma almost sagged in relief. Mo went still at the sight of Meg's very dead body, but he pushed through whatever was immobilizing him and moved to her side. His hands ran over her, as if checking to make sure that she wasn't about to keel over, and Emma flapped her hands at him.

"I'm fine. Can we just get out of here?" Mo's dark curly hair looked wild as he nodded, and strong hands helped her get to her feet. She wobbled a bit as she put pressure on her right foot, and a hot bolt of pain pulsed above her ankle.

"Can you walk?" With the door open, Emma could hear yells and screams overhead.

"Yeah, but you gotta get out of here. I'm not leverage, Mo, I'm a distraction. Humans are gonna attack the house, so you gotta go help Sam and Dean." She tried to push him away, to get him to move, but he just shook his head.

"If that's true, then it's already too late. Come, Emma. Let me save you." His eyes flicked over to Meg, and Emma reached out to grab his arm.

"Then let's go." Mo helped her up the stairs, and they moved away from the sounds of fighting once they reached the main level of the house. The house was dark, so Emma let Mo lead them. They turned a corner, and Emma blinked against the sudden brightness. Sunlight was pouring through a giant hole in the wall, that was still smoking, and Mo pulled her to a stop right in front of it. Emma was just getting ready to jump out of the smoking hole when Mo grabbed her shoulder, and she looked up at the demon.

"Abaddon is coming."

"Then we should be running." Mo shook his head, and Emma felt her stomach fall.

"I can hold her off, just long enough. Run through the trees and down the path, you'll find a gray car. Keys are in the ignition. Don't stop driving, Emma. Go." She wanted to argue, to yell, but Mo pressed a quick kiss against her forehead and gave her a small push. Running. Right.

Emma leapt out of the house, bit back the scream as her fibula finally snapped, and started running. The old house with its solid basement was in the middle of nowhere, and Emma ran into the tree line next to a dirt path. Mo left her a car. All she has to do is find it and get out. She's not going to think about humans in her home or what they've done to the Winchesters. She's not going to think about the angels and wonder about what happens to them when they're banished to who-knows-where. She's definitely not going to think about Mo staying behind and facing down Abaddon. Just like she's not going to think about Meg _(River le Thechare)_. Hell, she's not even gonna think about the sick crunching sound coming from her lower leg as she pushes the broken bone past its limits.

Car! Emma tripped out of the tree line and slammed into the passenger door, and her fingers left bloody smears against the light gray exterior as she moved around the front of it. Just like Mo said, keys were in the ignition. Did Mo plan this? Her leaving on her own? It's almost like he knew that this whole thing was a trap, and maybe he did. She'll think about that later. Her right hand was slippery with blood and a few of the nerves must've been snipped because it wasn't cooperating right, and her broken collarbone ached as she leaned to the side so she could start the car with her left hand. There's no way she can drive with her right foot either, and it throbbed hotly as she pushed it against the bottom of the seat so her left foot could reach the pedals. If her injuries don't kill her, her driving might.

Emma did what Mo asked her to do. She drove. She has no idea where she is or which direction she should be driving in, but she's going ninety down a pot-holed road. The first few minutes were agonizing and made her want to hurl. The first hour her adrenaline was still pumping and kept her going. By the end of the second hour, she was ready to kill over. She was still in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere and bleeding sluggishly. Everything she didn't want to think about was pounding against her skull, and something has gotta give.

"GABRIEL! I'M DYING, THE WINCHESTERS MIGHT ALREADY BE DEAD, AND I NEED YOU TO GET YOUR ASS HERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME? **NOW**!"

Emma yelped and slammed her _right_ foot down on the brake as a body spread out across the outside of the windshield, and she had just enough time to see wide and panicked golden eyes before he went sailing over the hood and onto the road. Emma ripped off a nail in her hurry to get the car door open, and Gabriel's deep groan reached her before she reached him. The archangel was lying flat on his back and staring up the sky, and his left cheek was bleeding from where the skin got scraped off on the asphalt. Gabriel shouldn't be bleeding. He's an angel. No, scratch that, he's an archangel.

"Emma?" She wanted to bend down and check on him, but her multitude of injuries are telling her that's a bad idea.

"What took you so long?!" She'd kick him, but her only uninjured foot is the only thing keeping her upright.

"I shouldn't be here now. I was _banished_. How did I…? How did you…? Really?" He looks confused, she feels confused, and everything is bad.

"Can you take us home? I wasn't leverage, Gabriel. I was just a—"

"A distraction. Yeah, I heard you, right before the banishing. Distraction for what?"

"Wanted to get the demons out of the way; Elijah knew that the humans and angels wouldn't come for me. They're gonna send humans after the Winchesters. It's been hours, so they probably already have. We gotta get there, Gabriel. What if Sam and Dean are…" She couldn't finish the sentence, because the Winchesters can't be dead. They can't.

"No can do, sugar bear. That's part of the banishing. First you get tossed into a different dimension that sucks the grace out of you and then when you get back here, it takes a little time to build it back up. I'm practically human. For another couple of hours, at least." Emma listened to the words, processed them, and shouted up at the sky. The sky hasn't done anything, per se, but she's gotta vent at something.

"Get your ass in the car. I'm too paranoid to stand around."

"How are you even alive?" Gabriel asked as he slowly got to his feet. Emma led the way over the car, ignored the big crack in the windshield from where she hit an archangel, and waited until Gabriel was seated before driving off.

"If I pass out, grab the wheel."

"Blood loss?"

"Yep."

"I'll heal you as soon as I can." Emma shook her head so fast and hard that she felt like she was getting whiplash, and she let her right hand flop against Gabriel's leg.

"Sam and Dean first. We're probably already too late, but…_fuck_." Great, she's crying again. Didn't she run out of tears two hours ago? She could see Gabriel's hand holding hers, but she can't feel it anymore. She'd be worried under other circumstances, but she's mostly just grateful. She's still got plenty of wounds that are hurting.

"They're probably sitting in the kitchen, worried about us. Dean's probably drinking and Sam's twirling his hair." Emma's laugh was wet with tears and reopened some cuts, but she kept her eyes on the road. She can't afford to crash now.

**SAM**

"Sam Winchester, you're a hard one to catch." He's dead, isn't he? Three shots to the heart and he went down, so where is he? Sam took stock of his body and felt the blinding pain his mind must have been protecting him from. Sharp, deep pains in the meat of his shoulders, his forearms, thighs, ankles. He forced his eyes to open and slowly stretched his neck. Hooks. Large curved hooks were holding him up, and a man was standing in front of him. Brown hair, brown eyes, tailored suit.

"You must be Elijah." The man smiled and nodded. "Where am I?"

"You know where you are." He looked around him again, at the dark room. The smell of sulfur was thick in the air, and he could hear screams echoing somewhere in the distance.

"This is Hell? I expected more fire." Elijah's head tilted the smallest bit and flames licked at the bottom of Sam's feet. The fire stayed long enough for the skin to blacken and peel before disappearing, and Sam's feet throbbed even as they healed.

"Hell is whatever you make it. Perhaps, later, I can show you the Righteous Rack. You've heard of it, I assume." The rack where they tortured Dean. Yeah, he's heard of it. "Or would you prefer to see Emma's?"

"I'm not good enough for my own?" Elijah smiled at him again, and Sam flinched as a hand was pressed against his chest. At least he's still wearing clothes. Emma muttered something once about always being naked, open and exposed. Dean never said anything.

"I like you, Sam, but I'm afraid this is something that has to be done."

"Is Dean down here too? With Emma?"

"Heavens, no, Sam. Emma, Dean, and the other two that were with you will all go to Heaven. We have no need for any of them."

"What about the rings?" Dean and Emma still have their rings, and they can't be removed in death. The rings will stay with them, their souls. Sam did some extra research in between reading Gabriel's accounts, just to see what he'd gotten himself into.

"Ah, yes, Emma asked the same thing. We don't need the rings to free Lucifer; it was just a little…distraction." Gabriel said something right before he was banished, and Sam easily put the pieces together.

"Like Emma was."

"Mmm, yes, unfortunate. I liked her too." Sam's lips parted to ask another question, but Elijah's hand pushed through skin and bone to reach his heart. Sam didn't have enough breath to scream as the organ was ripped out of him, and he watched with wide eyes as Elijah held his heart up. Shouldn't he be dying? Except, he's already dead and in Hell.

"I won't say yes." It was said with fresh blood clogging his throat and dripping down his chin, but he still meant it. He said yes once, and he was never going to do it again.

"Yes, you will. Your body will be kept safe until your soul says yes. I wish there was another way, Sam." Elijah tossed his heart to the side, and Sam felt the hole in his chest closing as his heart reappeared. There was still a deep ache, but his heart was beating again.

"Why are you doing this?" What was the point of everything? Elijah's lips thinned as he used a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his hand, and Sam took slow and even breaths against the dull pain still throbbing in his chest.

"I wish I could explain everything, but there isn't enough time. We have you now, and it's time to move the rest along. Abaddon asked to be the one to persuade you, and she'll be here soon. Enjoy the peace while you can." Elijah disappeared, and Sam let his head fall back on his shoulders. The hooks were still holding him in place, and he didn't see how he could get down. Dean was on the Righteous Rack for thirty years. Emma, and Gabriel, survived this for two hundred years. He can hold out.

* * *

**Finis: **Whew! This one was a tough one to write. Okay, first things first, I really love Meg. I hate that they never really did a proper backstory on her, so I'm making up my own. Meg's a total badass, so that's why she lasted so long in the Pit. I know the body count was really high in this chapter (five, possibly six), but everything is going to be okay! Eventually. Also, it's Supernatural, so just remember that dead things don't always stay that way. Seriously though, this chapter was uber hard to write and made me miss my fluff. I'll try and update again soon!


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